"How did I know you would like to be stared at?" asked he, with a laugh.
Elizabeth blushed and looked grave; to her the matter seemed too terrible.
"I might have said something," she mused, sadly.
"And if it had been to the wrong person," suggested Sandy;—"for they a'n't very fond of him, I guess."
"Who is he, then? I never heard."
"He has been shut up in that building now a'most five year, Elizabeth," said Sandy, leaning on the handle of the spade he had struck into the ground with emphasis.
"Five years!"
"Summer heat, and winter cold. All the same to him. No wonder he sticks, as if he was glued, to the window, now he's got one worth the glass."
"Oh, let him!"
"If he could walk about the garden, it would be better yet."