"You look all right, Danny Agin, just as kind and nice as can be, but I guess Mis' Agin knows a few things about you!"
Danny blinked his eyes several times in quick succession. "What's this ye're sayin', Rosie?"
"Oh, nuthin'. I was only saying what a nice day it was. Good-bye."
Rosie started resolutely away, then paused. She really wanted some one with whom to talk out her perplexity, and here was Danny Agin, a man of sound sense and quick sympathy, and her own sworn friend and ally.
Rosie turned back and, seating herself on the porch step at Danny's feet, looked up into Danny's face.
"What's troublin' you, Rosie dear?" Danny's tone was kind and invited confidence.
Rosie shook her head gloomily. "Danny, I'm just so mixed up that I don't know where I'm at. You know Janet McFadden? Well——"
Rosie took a long breath and, beginning at the beginning, gave Danny a full account of yesterday's discussion. She brought her story down to that very morning when her mother had called her upstairs to tie the broken corset string. At this point she paused and sighed, then looked at Danny long and searchingly.
"And, Danny, listen here: There wasn't any scar at all! I hunted over every scrap of both shoulders and I felt 'em, too, and they were just as round and smooth as a fat baby! And she said: 'A foot long at least and two fingers deep.' And she even said it itched in rainy weather! Now what do you know about that?"
Danny slowly shook out the folds of a large red handkerchief, dropped it over his head and face, and bowed himself as though in prayer. No sound came from behind the handkerchief, but Danny's body began to shake convulsively. Either he was sobbing, or——