"You know," she went on finally, "boys here don't do things that you boys do down there--" She stopped again, the tears started suddenly in her earnest eyes, and a miracle happened to little Jason. Something quite new surged within him, his own eyes swam suddenly, and he cleared his throat huskily. "I hain't a-goin' to bother you folks no more," he said, and he tried to be surly, but couldn't. "I'm a-goin' away." The little girl's tears ceased. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wish you'd stay here and go to school. The school-teacher said he wanted you to do that, and he says such nice things about you, and so does my Uncle Bob, and Gray is sorry, and he says he is coming over to see you to-morrow." "I'm a-goin' home," repeated Jason stubbornly. "Home?" repeated the girl, and her tone did what her look had done a moment before, for she knew he had no home, and again the lad was filled with a throbbing uneasiness. Her eyes dropped to her pony's mane, and in a moment more she looked up with shy earnestness. "Will you do something for me?" Again Jason started and of its own accord his tongue spoke words that to his own ears were very strange. "Thar hain't nothin' I won't do fer ye," he said, and his sturdy sincerity curiously disturbed Marjorie in turn, so that her flush came back, and she went on with slow hesitation and with her eyes again fixed on her pony's neck. "I want you to promise me not--not to shoot anybody--unless you HAVE to in self-defence--and never to take another drink until--until you see me again." She could not have bewildered the boy more had she asked him never to go barefoot again, but his eyes were solemn when she looked up and solemnly he nodded assent. "I give ye my hand." The words were not literal, but merely the way the mountaineer phrases the giving of a promise, but the little girl took them literally and she rode up to him with slim fingers outstretched and a warm friendly smile on her little red mouth. Awkwardly the lad thrust out his dirty, strong little hand. "Good-by, Jason," she said. "Good-by--" he faltered, and, still smiling, she finished the words for him. "Marjorie," she said, and unsmilingly he repeated: "Marjorie."