"Hello, Hermy, ain't tea ready yet?" he enquired, tossing aside his
straw hat and opening a newspaper he carried, "say, the Giants are sure
playin' great ball this season--what, are ye asleep?"

"No, dear!"

"Why, Hermy," he exclaimed, dropping the paper and clasping an arm about
her, "Oh, Hermy--what is it?"

"Oh, boy--dear, dear boy--you didn't, did you?" she cried feverishly.
"You are a little wild--sometimes, dear, just a little--but you are
good--and honourable, aren't you?"

"Why, yes, Hermy I--I try t' be," he answered uneasily; "but I don't
know what you mean."

"You're not a thief, are you? You're not a burglar? You never broke into
any one's house. I know you didn't, but--tell me you didn't--tell me you
didn't!"

"No--no, o' course not," stammered Spike and, averting his head, tried
to draw away, but she clung to him all the closer.

"Boy--boy dear," she whispered breathlessly, "oh, boy, look at me!"

But seeing he kept his face still turned from her, she set a hand to his
cheek and very gently forced him to meet her look. For a long moment she
gazed thus--saw how his eyes quailed, saw how his cheek blanched, and as
he cowered away, she rose slowly to her feet, and into her look came a
growing horror; beholding which Spike covered his face and shrank away