fireplace near the foot of the stairs. “Come here, Barney,” she said. “We must get Annie to mend those tears.” She fingered and patted them with a futile solicitude, smiling at him wanly. “Are n’t you afraid that they might see you looking for your hat? They ’ll be searching for you, won’t they?”
“I don’t care if they do see me.” He looked down at his feet.
She drew him to her and put an arm about him. “Why not?”
“I guess I might as well let them pick me up.”
Her arm tightened around him. She said, in a low voice: “That ’s right, now. If you have n’t done anything wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of. And if you have, you ought to be brave enough to take your punishment. . . . Your mother will help you, won’t she?”
Barney nodded, hanging his head.
“Will you write to me, if I can do anything?”
