“I wish I could help him,” muttered Stanley.
Instantly her mood changed and she laughed quietly. “At least, it’s no harm for me to wish it,” he remonstrated, his feelings hurt.
“You’ll forgive me, I know,” she soothed, her tone quieting him at once. “I thank you for your kind wish. I know you would help him if you could.” Then gayly, “And who knows but what sometime you can help him?”
“Who knows?” he repeated, as if talking to himself.
She eyed him stealthily and at last frankly declared, “You are a queer boy.”
“I know it—that is, I’ve been told so,” he replied, his thoughts still wandering.
“You came from the city?” she prompted.
“Yes,” he replied. “Perhaps foolishly so. I can see now I made some mistakes. I never would have believed it till I came up here and had a chance to look back.”
“If your coming has taught you your errors it has been a good thing for you that you came,” she encouraged.
“I am inclined to think it is; only, I do not see how I can profit by it and go back and correct my mistakes.” And he sighed, as he turned to rejoin the others.
