Whispering Smith
water,” he observed reassuringly. “I think the worst of the danger is past.”
Dicksie looked at the table-cloth with wide-open eyes. “I feel sure that it is. I am no longer worrying about that.”
“It’s nothing I can do or leave undone, is it?” asked McCloud, laughing a little as he implied in his tone that she must be worrying about something.
Dicksie made a gesture of alarm. “Oh, no, no; nothing!”
“It’s a pretty good plan not to worry about anything.”
“Do you think so?”
“Why, we all thought so last night. Heavens!” McCloud drew back in his chair. “I never offered you a piece of chicken! What have I been thinking of?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t eat it anyway!” cried Dicksie.
“You wouldn’t? It is delicious. Do have a plate and a wing at least.”
“Really, I could not bear to think of it,” she said pathetically.
He spoke lower. “Something is troubling you. I have no right to a confidence, I know,” he added, taking a biscuit.
Her eyes fell to the floor. “It is nothing. Pray, don’t mind me. May I fill your cup?” she asked, looking up. “I am afraid I worry too much over
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