"She ain't much!" deprecated Lonely, melting a little. There was a moment's silence.
"Are n't you the new baker's little boy?" she next demanded, looking at him with wide-open eyes. Her attitude was plainly conciliating, her tone was companionable, and after all, decided Lonely, a girl was at least something to talk to.
"Yep!" he answered, carelessly slinging a stone at a telephone pole, neatly smashing the insulating glass, and allowing the "little boy" to pass.
"We 've had the scarletina in our house!" she said proudly, as she opened the gate and crept in. "That 's why all my dolls is naked."
"They was boiled, so people can't catch it off 'em," she explained, in answer to Lonely's puzzled frown.
"What 's your name?" demanded Lonely. She told him that it was Annie Eliza Gubtill.
"What 's yours?"
"Just Lonely—Lonely O'Malley!" He tried to say it airily and off-hand, but his face grew hot over the demeaning and unusual
