“‘A—a white man?’ she asked.
“I thought a moment, then I understood.
“‘Yes, a white man,’ I answered.
“She came up to the car at that and looked in. She glanced back at me. Evidently she wasn’t entirely satisfied.
“‘How old are you?’ she asked. ‘You look awfully old.’
“I leaned over on the car too; I’d begun to think. I remembered that to me she seemed so very, very young; and all at once it flashed over me that probably I wasn’t a day older.
“‘Eighteen,’ I said.
“‘Eighteen!’ She stared. ‘Why, I’m eighteen. And you—have you been here long?’
“I suppose I smiled. Anyway I know I scared her. She drew back.
“‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ve forgotten. If you’ll tell me the date maybe I can answer. I don’t know.’