And so did she.

A month after this interchange of frankness, she asked him if he
could spend the next evening at her house. "You see," she said,
"there's to be a dance down at the hall at Eureka, and I haven't
kicked a fut since last spring. Hank Fisher's comin' up to take me
over, and I'm goin' to let the shanty slide for the night."

"But what's to become of the baby?" asked North, a little testily.

"Well," said Miss Robinson, facing him somewhat aggressively, "I
reckon it won't hurt ye to take care of it for a night. Dad can't--
and if he could, he don't know how. Liked to have pizened me
after mar died. No, young man, I don't propose to ask Hank Fisher
to tote thet child over to Eureka and back, and spile his fun."

"Then I suppose I must make way for Mr. Hank--Hank--Fisher?" said
North, with the least tinge of sarcasm in his speech.

"Of course. You've got nothing else to do, you know."

North would have given worlds to have pleaded a previous engagement
on business of importance, but he knew that Bessy spoke truly. He
had nothing to do. "And Fisher has, I suppose?" he asked.

"Of course--to look after ME!"

A more unpleasant evening James North had not spent since the first
day of his solitude. He almost began to hate the unconscious cause
of his absurd position, as he paced up and down the floor with it.