ost have died for one, but you had to
wear blue after that, 'count of doin' work 'round. Oh, an' that hat! I
kin put that ribbon on it as easy as----"

She halted suddenly and lowered her eyelashes, adding:

"But you hadn't any call to buy them for me; I can't pay you back right
now."

Jim's reply was irrelevant.

"Why, your eyes aren't black, after all! They're violet-blue, the
deepest blue I ever saw!" Then he caught himself up, reddening
furiously, and after a moment said in a casual tone: "That's all right
about the things, Lou; you can pay me when you get some work to do. Now,
go fix yourself up, and we'll have breakfast."

When she had disappeared into the mill he cursed himself for a fool. The
child had trusted him as a comrade; what would she think if he began
paying her compliments? What had come over him, anyway? He had seen
women with violet-blue eyes in more countries than one; beautiful women
with every enhancement which breeding and wealth could bestow. It must
have been sheer surprise in discovering any attribute of prettiness at
all about so uncompromisingly homely a girl as poor little Lou.

With this reassuring reflection he set about replenishing the fire, and
presently his companion reappeared. The large, flapping hat sat oddly
upon her small head with its tightly drawn-back hair, but the straight
lines of the all-enveloping pink gown brought out the slender curves of
her childish figure, and she didn't seem quite so gawky, after all, as
she moved toward him over the rocks.

"My, you look nice!" he said cheerfully. "I've brought some rolls
from----"

"We'll keep them for later," Lou interrupted him firmly. "There's still
the end of the bread left, and goodness knows where we'll eat again!"

They breakfasted gaily, drinking the remainder of the milk first and
then boiling the eggs in the pan, but Lou's remark about their next meal
had made Jim think seriously of the immediate future. He had assumed a
responsibility which he must fulfill, and his progress thus far under
the handicaps he had spoken of had been difficult enough alone.

The little pink apron-frock had cost half of his capital, the hat
twenty-five cents more, and the ribbon a dime. Five cents in addition
for the rolls had left but thirty-five of the preciously hoarded
pennies, and he was ninety miles from home, with a host of petty, but
formidable, restrictions barring his way, and an adopted orphan on his
hands.

He had been