"I can't tell you my name," he said in a low voice. "I hoped you
wouldn't ask me. I have no home now--not since--Oh, a long time ago,
it seems. More than a week, I reckon, ma'am."
"You have been wandering about like this for a week?" she asked in
surprise. He gulped.
"Yes, ma'am. Since the eleventh of May." He wanted to tell her that he
had been hunted from county to county for over a week, but something
held his tongue. He felt that she would understand and sympathize, but
he was not so sure of the others.
Perhaps she suspected what was going on in that troubled brain, for
she laid her hand gently upon his arm and said: "Never mind, then.
When you are stronger, you may go. I am sure you are a good boy."
He thanked her with a look of mute gratitude. The girl with the long
red cloak came tripping back with a tray. She placed it on his knees;
then she whisked away the napkin which covered it. All he knew was
that he smiled up into her eyes through his tears, and that the smell
of warm food assailed his nostrils. As she straightened up, the
neglected cloak slipped from her shoulders. She caught it on her arm,
but did not attempt to replace it.
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