Ludovic held his chin up high; his hands shook as he worked at his collar-button.
"Have you got any boys?" he flung out in the tone of a retort.
"Yes; one about your age, I should guess."
"How would you like to see him in the fix I'm in?"
"I couldn't suppose it, Mr. Ludovic. My boy and you ain't one bit alike."
"Are your girls like her?"
"No, sir; they are not. I ain't worrying about them any, nor wouldn't if they was in her place. But there's points about this thing"—
"We'll leave the points. Suppose, I say, your boy was in my fix: would you grudge him any little kindness he might be able to cheat heaven, we'll say, out of between here and Pocatello?"
"Heaven can take care of itself; that little girl is not in heaven yet. And there's kindnesses and kindnesses, Mr. Ludovic. There are some that cost like the mischief. I expect you're willing to bid high on kindness from a nice girl, about now; but how about her? Has kindness gone up in her market? I guess not. That little creetur's goods can wait; she'd be on top in any market. I guess it ain't quite a square deal between her and you."
Ludovic sat down, and buried his hands in his pockets. His face was a dark red; his lips twitched.