Content stopped sobbing and gave him a quick glance.
“Then—why doesn't she get married, and go out West to live?”
Jim chuckled. Instead of a sob, a faint echo of his chuckle came from Content.
Jim laughed merrily. “I say, Content,” he cried, “let's have it she's married now, and gone?”
“Well,” said Content.
Jim put his arm around her very nicely and protectingly. “It's all right, then,” said he, “as all right as it can be for a girl. Say, Content, ain't it a shame you aren't a boy?”
“I can't help it,” said Content, meekly.
“You see,” said Jim, thoughtfully, “I don't, as a rule, care much about girls, but if you could coast down-hill and skate, and do a few things like that, you would be almost as good as a boy.”
Content surveyed him, and her pessimistic little face assumed upward curves. “I will,” said she. “I will do anything, Jim. I will fight if you want me to, just like a boy.”
“I don't believe you could lick any of us fellers unless you get a good deal harder in the muscles,” said Jim, eying her thoughtfully; “but we'll play ball, and maybe by and by you can begin with Arnold Carruth.”