The Sieversons all stood back in a group shyly grinning and admiring. Leone’s eyes were as eager as if she were looking at a big doll in a store window. They had never seen any child as pretty as this one, and Mr. Lindsay knew it and was brimming with pride. Her short dress of creamy linen, tied with a red-silk cord at the neck and embroidered with patches of bright Russian colours, melted its fairness into the pure lovely pallor of her skin. The sleeves were so short that almost the whole of her soft, round, tiny arms was bare. Her hair was of fine gold streaked and overlaid with brown--the colour of a straw stack with the darker, richer brown on top--but every hair lay fine and perfect, the thick bangs waved slightly on her forehead, and the long soft bob curved out like a shining flower bell and shook a little when she moved her head. Her skin wasn’t one bit sunburned, and so white and delicately grained that there seemed to Vila, in awe, to be a little frost upon it ... like the silver bloom on wildflower petals, picked in cool places, that smudged when she rubbed it with her fingers. Mr. Lindsay became businesslike now that he was out of the car. “Well, Henry,” he said, “you got it all figured up and ready to show me? I think we’ve got Appleton where we can make a deal all right.” “Yeah, I guess it’s ready.” While the two men talked, the little girl stood beside Mr. Lindsay, her hand still in his, with a grave, trustful, wondering look. Leone, smiling at her, was getting closer. Mr. Lindsay seemed to remember her then and looked down at her. “Well, Patricia, what about you while I’m looking after my business?” He smiled then at the other children. “Think you can find something to do with all these kids here?” Leone looked up at him and her blue eyes pleaded brightly in her eagerness. “I guess they’s plenty of them to look after her,” Mr. Sieverson said shyly but still grinning. “They can entertain her,” Mrs. Sieverson put in. She could do the baking without Leone this morning, she thought rapidly, but feeling hurried and anxious. “You going to play with them for a while, are you?” Mr. Lindsay felt responsible for Patricia. All the same he wanted her off his mind for a while until he had finished his business. “I don’t know whether----” “Oh, Leone’ll look after her,” Mrs. Sieverson assured him, and Mr. Sieverson repeated, “Sure! She’ll be all right with Leone.” Leone came up now, smiling eagerly and with a sweetness that transformed her thin freckled face. She shook back the wisps of uneven, tow-coloured hair. She took the little girl’s hand protectingly and confidingly in her hot palm that had a gleam of dusty perspiration along the life line and the heart line. The tiny hand felt like a soft warm bit of silk--or a flower. “That’s right! Uncle Dave won’t be gone long. Don’t take her out where it’s too hot, kids. You know she isn’t used to things the way you are.” “No, you be careful,” Mrs. Sieverson warned them.