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Dell, Ethel M. (Ethel May), 1881-1939

"The Swindler and Other Stories"


Ernestine moved, elf-like, in the light of the sinking fire. She took no
notice of the man who watched her, being plainly too busy to heed his
attention.
But her duties were over at last, and she turned from the ruddy
firelight and moved, half reluctantly it seemed, towards him. She
reached him, and stood before him.
"I've done now," she said. "You can rake out the fire. Good-night!"
He took the little hand in his.
"Are you tired, Chirpy?"
"No, I don't think so." She sounded slightly doubtful.
"Won't you stay with me for a little?" he said. She stood silent. "I was
horribly lonely after you went to bed last night," he urged gently.
She uttered a funny little sigh.
"I'm sure you must have been horribly uncomfortable too," she said. "Did
you lie awake?"
"No, I wasn't uncomfortable. I've slept in the open heaps of times
before. I was just--lonely."
She laid her hand lightly on his shoulder as she stood beside him.
"It was rather awesome," she admitted.
"I believe you were lonely too," he said.
She laughed a little, and said nothing.
He took his pipe from his mouth and laid it tenderly upon the ground.
"Shall I tell you something, Chirpy?"
Her hand began to rub up and down uneasily on his shoulder.
"Well?" she said under her breath.
He looked up at her in the falling darkness.
"I feel exactly as you felt over that squirrel," he said.


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