“Hello.” Her tone was frank, friendly.
“Hello,” Florence came back. “What’s your name?”
“Tillie—Tillie McFadden.” The girl flashed her charming Irish smile.
“Tillie!” exclaimed Florence. “Sun-Tan Tillie!”
The smile faded for a second, then returned. “Oh! You mean I’m brown. I’ve always been that way.”
“I know girls who’d give their best dresses for your color. They buy it in boxes, and put it on with a brush, in Chicago.”
The girl laughed. Then she looked at the net and frowned. “Now we lost ’em! Turkey, we’ve got to get ’em. There’s ten autos on the way.”
“What are you catching?” asked Florence.
“Minnies.”
“Oh, minnows? Not many here, are there?”