"Did you get the girl?"
"They dropped her to save themselves. My friend found her with a man and took her from him."
"I hope you did up Jerry right!" cried Annie, a vindictive flash in her dark eyes.
"I haven't called him up this mo'nin' to see how he's feelin'," said Clay whimsically. "Miss Annie, we're worried some about you. Mrs. Muldoon is right anxious for us to get you to come and stay awhile with her. She's honin' to have a li'l' girl to mother. Don't you reckon you can go?"
"I—I wish yuh'd come, Annie," blurted out Tim, looking down his nose.
Tears brimmed in Annie's eyes. To Clay it seemed there was something hungry in the look the girl gave Muldoon. She did not want his pity alone. She would not have their hospitality if they were giving it to a girl they despised and wanted to reform.
"I'm an alley cat you're offerin' to take in and feed, Tim Muldoon," she charged suspiciously.
"Yuh're the girl—my mother loves." He choked on the impulsive avowal he had almost made and finished the sentence awkwardly. It was impossible for him to escape the natural male instinct to keep his feelings out of words.
The girl's face softened. Inside, she was a river of tenderness flowing toward the Irishman. "I'll go to your mother, Tim, if she really wants me," she cried almost in a murmur.
"You're shoutin' now, Miss Annie," said Clay, smiling. "She sure wants you. I'll hit the trail to have that talk with Jim Collins."