Travers was bewitched.

"You----" But he did not put his thought into words; he merely gave smile
for smile, and asked:

"Did he teach you to dance?"

"No. The dance is--is me! That's why he likes me. He's so dead that he
likes to see something that is alive."

"The whole world would adore you could it see you as I just have!"

Then Travers, with the artist's eye, wondered how dark hair could
possibly hold such golden tints, and how such a dark face could make
lovely the blue, richly lashed eyes. He knew she must be from Lonely
Farm--Jerry-Jo used to speak of her; lately he had said nothing, to be
sure, but this certainly must be the child who had once cried over a
book of his. Poor, little, temperamental beggar!

"Come up and deliver!" Travers gave a laugh. "I'm Robin Hood and I want
you to explain yourself. Why do you bow down before that brazen and
evil-looking brute?"

Priscilla hugged her knees in her clasped hands, and said, on the
defence:

"He's the only god that answered my prayer. I tried father's God and--it
didn't work! Then I fixed up this one, and--it did!"

"What was it you wanted?"