Uncle Billy was bewildered.
"Why, June, hit's Mr. Hale--why---"
"Howdye, June!" said Hale, who was no less puzzled--and still she
gave no sign that she had ever seen him before except reluctantly
to give him her hand. Then she turned sullenly away and sat down
in the door of the mill with her elbows on her knees and her chin
in her hands.
Dumfounded, the old miller pulled the sack of corn from the horse
and leaned it against the mill. Then he took out his pipe, filled
and lighted it slowly and turned his perplexed eyes to the sun.
"Well, honey," he said, as though he were doing the best he could
with a difficult situation, "I'll have to git you that meal at the
house. 'Bout dinner time now. You an' Mr. Hale thar come on and
git somethin' to eat afore ye go back."
"I got to get on back home," said June, rising.
"No you ain't--I bet you got dinner fer yo" step-mammy afore you
left, an' I jes' know you was aimin' to take a snack with me an'
ole Hon." The little girl hesitated--she had no denial--and the
old fellow smiled kindly.
"Come on, now."
Little June walked on the other side of the miller from Hale back
to the old man's cabin, two hundred yards up the road, answering
his questions but not Hale's and never meeting the latter's eyes
with her own.
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