She wondered what his business could be. Not a lawyer or doctor or teacher certainly. His timidity in handling books was clear proof on that point. He was well groomed. His clothes were made by a first-class tailor.
Her heart thumped with a sudden fear. Perhaps he was some sort of criminal. His questions may have been a trick to lure her away....
They had just crossed the broad plaza at Fifty-ninth Street and entered the walkway that leads to the Mall.
“It's too far to the hill beyond the Mall,” she began hesitatingly. “We'll find a seat in one of the little rustic houses along the Fifty-ninth Street side----”
He accepted the suggestion so simply, she regretted her suspicions, instantly changed her mind and said, smiling:
“No, we'll go on where we started. The long walk will do me good.”
“All right,” he laughed; “whatever you say's the law. I'm the little boy that does just what his teacher says.”
She blushed and shot him a surprised look.
“Who told you that I was a teacher?” she asked, with a smile.
“Lord, nobody! I had no idea of such a thing. It never popped into my head that you do anything at all. You know, I was awful scared when I spoke to you?”
“Surest thing you know! I'd 'a' never screwed up my courage to do it if you hadn't 'a' looked so kind and gentle and sweet. I just knew you couldn't turn me down----”
There was no mistaking the genuineness of the apology for his presumption. She smiled a gracious answer, and threw the last ugly suspicion to the winds.
He broke into a laugh and lifted his hand in the sudden gesture of a traffic policeman commanding a halt.
“You know I was so excited I clean forgot to introduce myself! What do you think o' that? You'll excuse me, won't you? My name's Jim Anthony. I'm sorry I can't give you any references to my folks. I haven't any--I'm a lost sheep in New York--no father or mother. That's why I'm so excited about this trip I'm plannin' down South. I hear I've got some people down there.”
He stopped suddenly as if absorbed in the thought. Her heart went out to him in sympathy for this confession of his orphaned life.
“I'm Mary Adams,” she smiled in answer. “I'm a teacher in the public schools.”
“Gee--that accounts for it! I thought you looked like you knew everything in those books. And you've been to Asheville, too?”