"It burns. It shines. It looks bright. It wears the neatest little black dress with a frilly apron and deep frilly cuffs. Say, do you recollect something else I told you?" "I remember everything you told me." "Well, ma'am, I remember everything you told _me_. Somebody said she was grateful. Somebody said she'd do anything for Pap. Somebody said--'Try me.'" "I meant it, Mr. Hudson. I did mean it." "Do you mean it now?" "Yes. I--I owe you so much. You're always so very kind to me. And I behave very badly. I was hateful to you this evening. And, when you came to my door, just now, I was--I was _scared_." Pap opened his eyes at her, held his cigar away from him and laughed. The laugh was both bitter and amused. "Scared of Pap Hudson? _You_ scared? But, look-a-here, girl, what've I done to deserve that?" He sat forward, rested his chin in his hand, supported by an elbow on his crossed knees and fixed her with gentle and reproachful eyes. "Honest, you kind of make me feel bad, Miss Sheila." "I am dreadfully sorry. It was horrid of me. I only told you because I wanted you to know that I'm not worth helping. I don't deserve you to be so kind to me. I--I must be disgustingly suspicious." "Well!" Sylvester sighed. "Very few folks get me. I'm kind of mis-understood. I'm a real lonesome sort of man. But, honest, Miss Sheila, I thought you were my friend. I don't mind telling you, you've hurt my feelings. That shot kind of got me. It's stuck into me." "I'm horrid!" Sheila's eyes were wounded with remorse. "Oh, well, I'm not expecting understanding any more." "Oh, but I do--I do understand!" she said eagerly and she put her hand shyly on his arm. "I think I do understand you. I'm very grateful. I'm very fond of you." "Ah!" said Sylvester softly. "That's a good hearing!" He lifted his arm with Sheila's hand on it and touched it with his lips. "You got me plumb stirred up," he said with a certain huskiness. "Well!" She took away her hand and he made a great show of returning to common sense. "I reckon we are a pretty good pair of friends, after all. But you mustn't be scared of me, Miss Sheila. That does hurt. Let's forget you told me that." "Yes--please!" "Well, then--to get back to business. Do you recollect a story I told you?" "A story? Oh, yes--about an Englishman--?" "Yes, ma'am. That Englishman put his foot on the rail and stuck his glass in his eye and set his tumbler down empty. And he looked round that bar of mine, Miss Sheila. You savvy, he'd been all over the globe, that feller, and I should say his ex-perience of bars was--some--and he said, 'Hudson, it's all but perfect. It only needs one thing.'" This time Sheila did not ask. She waited. "'And that's something we have in our country,' said he." Hudson cleared his throat. He also moistened his lips. He was very apparently excited. He leaned even farther forward, tilting on the front legs of his chair and thrusting his face close to Sheila's "'_A pretty barmaid_!' said he."