Some daring prompted her to ask, "What was it, then?" but she folded her hands and crossed her feet in great contentment and was still.
"What things? About the house up there? About grannie? About Peter?"
"No, no. I know all about grannie and Peter. Tell me things I never could know unless we were here in the playhouse, in the dark."
Her mind went off, at that, to the wonder of it. She was here in strange circumstances, and of all the occurrences of her life, it seemed the most natural. Immediately she had the warmest curiosity, the desire that he should talk inordinately and tell her all the things he had done to-day, yesterday, all the days.
"You tell," she said. "Begin at the beginning, and tell me about your life."
"Why, playmate!" His voice had even a sorrowful reproach. "There's nothing in it. Nothing at all. I have only dug in the ground and made things grow."
"She's my people. She's all there is, except Peter, and he hasn't been here."
Something like jealousy possessed her. She was stung by her own ignorance.
"But there are lots of years when we didn't meet," she said.
"Lots of them. But I don't care anything about them. I told you so the other night."
She was lightheaded with the joy of it. There were things she need not tell him.
"Not the years before we met?" Then because she was a woman, she had to spoil the cup. "Nor the years after I go away?"
"No, not the years when you've gone away. You can't take this night with you, nor the other night."
Osmond laughed a little. It was a tender sound, as if he might scold her, but not meaning it.
"You mustn't be naughty," he said. "There's nothing naughtier in a playhouse than saying what isn't true. You know if you go away you'll come back again. You can't help it. It may be a long time first. You were twenty-five years in coming this time. But you'll have to come. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes," she said gravely, "I know that." Then the memory of her wandering life and the sore straits of it voiced itself in one cry, "I don't want to go. I want to stay."
"Stay, dear playmate," said the other voice. "There never will be a night when I'm not here. Is the playhouse key in your hand, all tight and warm? I wear mine round my neck. We shan't lose them."