"I am afraid not!"--although there WAS a slight attempt to do so.

"No?"

"No!"

"Well, then, take a good holt, a firm strong holt, o' my hair! Don't be
afraid!"

A small hand timidly began to rummage in Jeff's thick curls.

"Take a firm holt; thar, just back o' my neck! That's right."

The little hand closed over half a dozen curls. The little figure shook,
and giggled.

"Now don't you see, honey, if I'm keerless with you, and don't keep
you plump level up thar, you jist give me a pull and fetch me up all
standing!"

"I see!"

"Of course you do! That's because you're a little lady!"

Jeff strode on. It was pleasant to feel the soft warm fingers in his
hair, pleasant to hear the faint childish voice, pleasant to draw the
feet of the enwrapped figure against his broad breast. Altogether he
was sorry when they reached the dry land and the lee of the "Half-way
House," where a slight movement of the figure expressed a wish to