"Down, darling!" she said to the pointer, and "be still, beauty!" to the horse. Then she turned to Nicholas again. "I've really and truly got something to tell you, Nick Burr." "Out with it, then. Don't worry." She swung her long legs idly from the saddle. "Suppose I don't." "Then don't." "Suppose I do." "I'll be hanged if I care!" "Oh, you do, you story. You're just dying to know--but it's serious." She patted the horse's neck, watching Nicholas with child-like eagerness. "Well, I'm--I'm--there! I told you you were dying to know!" "I'm not." "Guess, anyway." "Somebody coming on a visit?" She shook her head. "Try again, stupid." "Miss Chris going to be married?" "Oh, Lord, no. You aren't really a fool, Nick." "Betsey got a baby?" "Why, Tecumsey only came last June!" "Then I give it up. Tell me." "Say please." "Please, Genia!" "Say 'please, dear, good Genia.'" "Please, dear, darling Genia." "I didn't say 'darling.' I said 'good.'" "It's the same thing." She smiled at him with boyish eyes. "Am I really a darling?" "Do you really know something?" "You bet I do." "What is it?" She laughed teasingly. "It'll make you cry." "Hurry up, Genia!" "You'll certainly cry very loud." "I'll shake you in a moment." "It isn't polite to shake ladies." "You aren't a lady. You're a vixen." "Aunt Verbeny says I'm a limb of Satan. But will you promise not to weep a flood of tears, so I can't cross home?" She leaned still nearer, resting her hand upon his shoulder. "I'm going away." "What?" "I'm going away to-morrow at daybreak. I'm going to school. I shan't come back for a whole year. I'm--I'm going to leave papa and Aunt Chris and Jim and you." She began to sob. "Don't," said Nicholas sharply. "And--and you don't care a bit. You're just a stone. Oh, I don't want to go to school!" "I'm not a stone. I do care." "No, you don't. And I may die and never come back any more, and you'll forget all about me." "I shan't. Don't, I say. Do you hear me, Genia, don't." She looked for a handkerchief, and, failing to find one, wiped her eyes on the horse's mane. "What are you going to do when I am gone?" "Work hard so you'll be proud of me when you come back." "I shall be sixteen in two years." "And I, twenty-one." "You'll be a man--quite." "You'll be a woman--almost." "I don't think I shall like you so much then." "I shall like you more." "Why?" she asked quickly. "Why? Oh, I don't know. Am I so awfully ugly, Genia?" "Turn this way." He obeyed her, flushing beneath her scrutiny. "I shouldn't call you--awful," she replied at last. "Am I so ugly, then?" "Honour bright?" "Of course," impatiently. "Then you are--yes--rather." He shook his head angrily. "I didn't think you'd be mean enough to tell me so," he returned. "But you asked me." "I don't care if I did. You might have said something pleasant."