"I'm a beast and nothing less!" he admitted by way of apology and
excuse. "I--I wish you _could_ forgive me."
Then slowly the head was raised and to Truedale's further consternation
he saw that mirth, not anguish, had caused the shaking of those
deceiving little shoulders.
"Oh! I see--you are laughing!" He tried to be indignant.
"Yes."
"At what?"
"Everything--you!"
"Thank you!" Then, like a response, something heretofore unknown and
unsuspected in Truedale rose and overpowered him. His shyness and
awkwardness melted before the warmth and glow of the conquering emotion.
He got up and sat on the corner of the table nearest his shabby little
guest, and looking straight into her bewitching eyes he joined her in a
long, resounding laugh.
It was surrender, pure and simple.
"And now," he said at last, "you must stay and have a bite. I am about
starved. And you?"
The girl grew sober.
"I'm--I'm always hungry," she admitted softly.
They drew the table close to the roaring fire, leaving doors and windows
open to the crisp, sweet; morning air.
"We'll have a party!" Truedale announced. "I'll step over to Jim's cabin
and bring the best he's got."
When he returned Nella-Rose had placed cups, saucers, and plates on the
table.
"Do you--often have parties?" she asked.
"I never had one before. I'll have them, though, from now on if--if you
will come!"
Truedale paused with his arms full of pitchers and platters of food, and
held the girl with his admiring eyes.
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