"I ain't doin' nothin'." It was clear that Nancy's interruption was unwelcome. "Least I ain't doin' nothin' that's hurtin'."
"Of course not! It sounded nice. I didn't even know there was a beach down there! How did you ever get down?"
The boy grew crafty—the haste with which he answered said plainly that he did not want Nancy to know how.
"Girls can't get down—it's awful dang'rous!"
"Then won't you come up?"
The boy considered this. He had guessed that this must be the "girl up at the Happy House." She seemed friendly and not at all disposed to "chase a feller away." And if he climbed up to her, then there would be no danger of her discovering the way down to the beach.
"All right, I'll come up." He disappeared for a moment in the tangle of growth that fringed the foot of the cliff to bob up close at Nancy's side.
"My goodness—it's just as though you came up by magic," she cried. "It must be dang'rous. I'm Nancy Leavitt. Who are you?"
The boy gave Nancy a suspicious look.
"Mebbe you'll tell!" he muttered, doubtingly.