ok of
innocence upon her face. Straight ahead went Ben around the circle--that
contained hot irons, or snakes, or something--back to his
starting-point, touched the small fragment of femininity upon the
shoulder gingerly, as though afraid she would fracture.

"Here's your handkerchief," he said, stooping to recover the bit of
linen. "You're it."

"Oh, dear!" she said, in mock despair; "you dropped it the first time,
didn't you?"

Ben agreed to the statement.

An unaccountable lull followed. In it he caught a curious sidelong
glance from the brown eyes under the drooping lashes.

"I didn't suppose you'd do that the first time," said the little girl.
"Papa never does."

The observation seemed irrelevant to Ben Blair, at least inadequate to
halt the game; but he made no comment.

Again there was a lull.

"Well," suggested Florence, and a tinge of red surged beneath the soft
brown skin.

Ben began to feel uncomfortable. He had a premonition that all was not
well.

"You're _it_, ain't you?" he hesitated at last.

This time, full and fair, the tiny woman looked at him. The color which
before had stood just beneath the skin rose burning to her ears, to the
roots of her hair. Her big brown eyes flashed fire.

"Ben Blair," she flamed, "you're a 'fraid cat!" Tears welled up into her
voice, into her eyes, and she made a motion as if to leave; but the
sudden passion of a spoiled child was too strong upon her, the mystified
face of the other too near, too tempting. With a motion which was all
but involuntary, a tiny brown hand shot out and struck the boy fair on
the mouth. "A 'fraid cat, 'fraid cat, and I hate you!"

Never before in his short life had Benjamin Blair met a girl. The ethics
of sex was a thing unknown to him, but nevertheless some instinct
prevented his returning the insult. Except for the red mark upon his
lips, his face grew very white.

"What am I afraid of?" he asked steadily.

Defiant still, the girl held her ground.

"Afraid of what?" she jeered. "You're afraid of everything! 'Fraid cats
always are!"

"But what?" pressed the boy. "Tell me something I'm afraid of."

Florence glanced about her. The tall roof of the barn caught her vision.

"You wouldn't dare jump off the roof there, for one thing," she
ventured.

Ben looked up. The point mentioned arose at least sixteen feet, and the
earth beneath was frozen like asphalt, but he did not hesitate. At the
north end, a stack of hay piled ag