Robert Dodson showed his bad teeth in an evil grin. He understood that he had been told to go ahead and play his own hand.
CHAPTER XLI
FROM THE JUNIPERS
Tommie the red-headed stayed after school to bring in kindling and a supply of piñon wood for the big drum stove in the centre of the room. Ever since his teacher had whipped him he had been her eager and willing slave. His eye was always alert to anticipate the needs of the slim, vital young woman he adored.
So wholly was his heart hers that Vicky was more touched than amused. He was a forlorn little orphan, sometimes underfed, she suspected, and she mothered him in such ways as she found possible. Perhaps she favoured him ever so little in the assignment of school privileges dear to children, such as letting him pass the water more often than she did others.
“I got kindlin’ an’ wood ’n everythin’, teacher. What’ll I do now?” he asked.
Vicky, working over next day’s lessons at the desk, smiled her thanks. “That’s all, Tommie. You’re a great help. Run along home now.”
“Must I?” he pleaded. “Can’t I go home when you go?”
“No, Tommie. I’ve a lot of work to do yet. And you know you promised to clean up the yard for Mrs. Fenway.”
Under pretense of seeing whether her pencil needed sharpening, Tommie sidled up to the desk close to his teacher. She knew what he wanted. If she had kissed him his masculine vanity would have been wounded, but the lonely child in him craved affection. Her arm slipped round his shoulder and she gave him a quick hug, scolding him a little at the same time because his coat was torn.