"That's one of my nicknames."
"My dear!" said Scott pityingly, at a loss for the moment in the face of her shamed and helpless fury. He laid his hand on hers.
"Do you believe it? What they said?" she whispered.
"No; no. Of course not," he answered soothingly.
"You do. Anyway, it's true."
"Can you tell me who those fellows are?" he asked grimly. "I'll find a way to stop their foul chatter."
"You can't mix in it. What good would it do if you did half kill them?" For she had read the formidable wrath in his face. "Besides," she concluded sullenly, "I tell you it's true."
"Why is it true, Pat?" he asked gently.
"Because I'm a cheap little idiot. I never realised—I never knew men talked—that way—about girls."
"Men don't. Those were callow boys."