“Well, I can go back again and stay till to-morrow if you want me to,” said Jeffrey, smiling.
“Oh, Jeff, you know I’m glad to see you. I was awfully disappointed when I got home and found that you were away up in the hills. How is your fight going on? And look at Twinkle-tail,” she hurried on a little nervously, for Jeffrey had her hand and was drawing her determinedly to him. She reached for the trout and held him up strategically between them.
“Oh, Fish!” said Jeffrey discontentedly as he saw himself beaten by her ruse.
The girl laughed provokingly up into his sullenly handsome face. Then she seemed to relent, and with a friendly little tug at his arm led him over to the edge of the pool and made him sit down.
“Now tell me,” she commanded, “all about your battle with the railroad people. Your mother told me some things, but I want it all, from yourself.”
But Jeffrey was still unappeased. He looked at her dress and shoes and said with a show of meanness:
“Ruth, you didn’t catch Twinkle-tail fair, on your line. You just walked into the pond and got him in a corner and kicked him to death brutally. I know you did. You’re always cruel.”
Ruth laughed, and showed him the jagged 70 cut in her hand where she had fallen on the rocks.
Instantly he was all interest and contrition. He must wash the hand and dress it! But she made him sit where he was, while she knelt down by the water and bathed the smarting hand and bound it with her handkerchief.