"You mean they deal in cattle?" he inquired.
"Cattle and horses—and tizwin," added Elsie, screwing up her luscious little mouth over the last word as if it had a bad taste.
Lennon caught a half glimmer of the truth. But the girl's thoughts had flitted butterfly-fashion——
"I hope your feet don't hurt. Mena's were even rawer—awful bad. She just couldn't help crying when I sopped them with the tizwin. She says that's all it's good for. I never knew her to cry before. But you were too dead asleep to feel the smart. I'll have your boots oiled and your clothes cleaned before you need 'em."
Quite naturally, Lennon inferred from this chatter that Elsie had first made Carmena comfortable and then, with innocent concern for him, had ventured into his room alone to treat his injured hand and feet.
He laid down his fork to clasp one of her plump, capable little hands with grateful warmth.
"It was most kind of you, Elsie, to care for my injuries."
The grown-up child beamed at him radiantly.
"I think you awful nice, Jack! I just knew I'd like you, the minute I set eyes on you."
"My word!—when I looked like a dying tramp," teased Lennon.