The little girl that had been ready to cry turned to her friend a
radiant face that was eloquent with the undisguised affection of
childhood.

"Zillah evidently likes you, Miss Warren," I said, "and you have given
the reason. You like her."

"Not always a sufficient reason for liking another," she answered.

"But a very good one," I urged.

"There are many better ones."

"What has reason to do with liking, anyway?" I asked.

The mirthfulness I had noted before glimmered in her eyes for a
moment, but she answered demurely, "I have seen instances that gave
much point to your question, but I cannot answer it," and with a
slight bow and smile she took her hat from Zillah and went down the
path with an easy, natural carriage, that nevertheless suggested the
city and its pavements rather than the country.

"What were you two talking about?" asked Adah, with a trace of vexed
perplexity on her brow, for I imagined that my glance followed Miss
Warren with some admiration and interest.

"You must have heard all we said."

"Where was the point of it?"