"No, only first news. This isn't one of the big cities where the crowds rush by and do not notice each other. It's only a lonesome little place, Harlan, and gossip travels fast. I heard you were home five minutes after the stage was in. So I came here and waited." He took both her hands between his broad palms, caressing them. "And you knew I'd hurry to come across the long bridge? That makes me happy, Clare, for you must have been thinking about me." "I haven't many things to do these days except think," she returned, wistfully. "You'll understand why I came down here. I'm not trying to hide away from my father, and I know you are not afraid of him. But lectures on the subject of not doing the things you don't have any idea of doing are not to my taste, and I know they don't suit you. So we'll sit here in peace and quietness, and you shall tell me all about it." He turned his back on the two red eyes of the Kavanagh house, and sat down on the step below her, and began his story, eagerly, volubly. Once in a while he looked up at her, and she gave wise little nods to show she understood. In relating the early episodes of his journey, he ventured to leave out details. But she insisted that he give them. "I want to know about the world--how they all look, and how they speak, and what they do. I've been lonely all these weeks. I've been wondering all the time what you were doing. Now I want it to seem that you've come to take me with you, back through it all. I want it to seem just as though I were travelling along with you--that will make me forget how lonely I've been, waiting here on the edge of the big woods." And he humored her whim, for he had always understood her child's ways. The woods had trained him to note the details of all he saw; his experiences had been fresh and stirring, and he told his story with zest. Then he came to his mention of Madeleine Presson. "Her father is the State chairman--the man you saw at 'The Barracks.' I was at their house a few times. Her mother--" "But about her! You are skipping again, Big Boy." "There is not much about her," he said, stammering a bit. "I saw her here and there, and talked with her, that's all." "But I'm seeing with your eyes and hearing with your ears as I go along with you," she insisted. "I want to know how other girls are in the world outside. I have been waiting to have some one tell me. You saw her, you heard her. Begin, Harlan: her looks, her clothes, her manners, what she said, what she talks about. I have only you to ask." His self-consciousness left him after he began. He drew his word-picture as best he could. "That makes her beautiful," she said, when he paused, searching his mind for some word of description. "I think I can see her with your eyes, Big Boy. Tell me what she knows; and how does she talk?"