Jack took heart. "If you're fishin' for a compliment—"
"What a tactful thing to tell a girl," she said, smiling.
"—I'll tell you that I never heard you sing better."
"Or worse, for that matter," she added; and with one of her swift changes of mood switched the topic of conversation. "How do you like Art Ridley?"
"That's not the way he talks. He says he—he wanted to run away from the island and leave that man Dinsmore, but you wouldn't let him." Her eyes met his very directly.
"He's a great lad for imaginin' things. I never want to see any one hold up his end better."
"You mean that he didn't say he wanted to leave Dinsmore?"
With her gaze searching him so steadily, it had to be an out-and-out lie to serve. Jack lied competently. "Not a word."
Her little finger tapped the hole in the pane gently while she reflected. "He told me—"