"Sho!" he exclaimed. "Was you, though?"

"Yes. Mamma says she is 'clined to think it was the two whole
bananas and the choc'late creams, but I think it was the fried
potatoes. I was sick twice--no, three times. Please, I asked you
something. Are you the windmill man?"

Jed, by this time very much amused, looked her over once more. She
was a pretty little thing, although just at this time it is
doubtful if any of her family or those closely associated with her
would have admitted it. Her face was not too clean, her frock was
soiled and mussed, her curls had been blown into a tangle and there
were smooches, Jed guessed them to be blackberry stains, on her
hands, around her mouth and even across her small nose. She had a
doll, its raiment in about the same condition as her own, tucked
under one arm. Hat she had none.

Mr. Winslow inspected her in his accustomed deliberate fashion.

"Guess you've been havin' a pretty good time, haven't you?" he
inquired.

The small visitor's answer was given with dignity.

"Yes," she said. "Will you please tell me if you are the windmill
man?"

Jed accepted the snub with outward humility and inward appreciation.