"Yes," he said simply. He could find no words for what he wished to say.
"I've thought of you—often," said Molly.
He took a step toward her. But the moment had passed. Her mood had changed in a flash, or seemed to have changed. The stream babbled on over the stones again.
"Be careful, Jimmy! You nearly touched me with the spoon. I don't want to be covered with that horrible stuff. Look at that poor, little chicken out there in the cold. It hasn't had a morsel."
Jimmy responded to her lead. There was nothing else for him to do.
"It's in luck," he said.
"Give it a spoonful."
"It can have one if it likes. But it's taking big risks. Here you are,
Hercules. Pitch in."
He scraped the last spoonful out of the iron pot, and they began to walk back to the house.
"You're very quiet, Jimmy," said Molly.