Then she espied Genie. “For land’s sake! That your girl in the boy’s clothes? Gene told me what a dunce he’d been.... Oh, she’s pretty! What shiny hair!”
“That’s Genie. I want you to meet her—and then, Mrs. Blair, perhaps you can give an old desert codger a little advice,” said Adam.
He called Genie, and she came readily, though not without shyness. Despite her garb and its rents, Adam could not but feel proud of her. Mrs. Blair’s kindliness quickly put the girl at ease. After a little talk, in which Genie’s part augured well for the impression she was to make upon people, Adam bade her play with the children.
“No wonder Gene spilled the milk!” ejaculated Mrs. Blair.
“Why?” queried Adam.
“The girl’s more than pretty. Never saw such hair. And her eyes! They’re not the color of hair and eyes I know.”
“That’s the desert’s work, Mrs. Blair. On the desert nature makes color, as well as life, more vivid, more intense.”
“And this Genie—isn’t it odd—her name is like my boy Gene’s—she’s no relation of yours?”
Briefly then Adam related Genie’s story and the circumstances of his association with her.
“Laws-a-me! Poor child!... And now she has no people—no home—not a friend in the world but you?”