Molly threw a cherry stone into the pool; and presently Jack heard her telling a story to herself as she leaned over looking down into the water; she had quite got over her shyness with him now.
"...So the cherry tree grew up in the sea, and was a sea cherry tree; and there were sea cherries all over it... And one day the shrimp came by and saw the sea cherries, and he thought: 'I must take some of those home for my baby shrimps'..."
"Molly," said Jack suddenly, "do you ever tell stories to Aunt Sarah? No, I don't mean fibs — of course everybody tells fibs; I mean stories about shrimps, and cherries, and things?"
She lookdd round, shocked at such a question.
"Why, no!"
Jack was quite abashed.
"Oh, wel," he said apologetically, "I couldn't know, you see. I thought, perhaps, as you are good, ahd she likes you..."
"It's the easiest way," she answered seriously, "if you're good, they let you alone."
To Jack the answer was a revelation. So Molly, too, lived in a secret world that was all her own, and kept the grown-ups and their dirty hands at arm's length! Her goodness and his badness were means to the same end; the difference was only one of method.
"The plucky little scrap of a thing!" he thought; and looked at her with new respect;
When all the cherries were eaten Molly lay down on the warm rock and went to sleep with her tumbled head against her arm.
Jack put her hat over her eyes to shade them from the sun, and sat still, looking out across the blue, shimmering water. Presently he turned and looked down at Molly. She was fast asleep. One bare foot was tucked up under her; the other lay stretched out on the rock, the smooth, clear skin still wet and glistening in the sun. He sat still for a long time, looking at her very solemnly; then he bent down and stroked the little naked foot. It was the first voluntary caress that he had given in his life to any human creature.