"You wouldn't laugh outside," hesitated Faith. "But you might--inside."

"No, I wouldn't laugh inside, either. Why should I? Something has hurt you--it never amuses me to see anybody hurt, no matter what hurts them. If you feel that you'd like to tell me what has hurt you I'll be glad to listen. But if you think you'd rather not--that's all right, too, dear."

Faith took another long, earnest look into Miss West's eyes. They were very serious--there was no laughter in them, not even far, far back. With a little sigh she sat down on the old pine beside her new friend and told her all about Adam and his cruel fate.

Rosemary did not laugh or feel like laughing. She understood and sympathized--really, she was almost as good as Mrs. Blythe--yes, quite as good.

"Mr. Perry is a minister, but he should have been a BUTCHER," said Faith bitterly. "He is so fond of carving things up. He ENJOYED cutting poor Adam to pieces. He just sliced into him as if he were any common rooster."

"Between you and me, Faith, _I_ don't like Mr. Perry very well myself," said Rosemary, laughing a little--but at Mr. Perry, not at Adam, as Faith clearly understood. "I never did like him. I went to school with him--he was a Glen boy, you know--and he was a most detestable little prig even then. Oh, how we girls used to hate holding his fat, clammy hands in the ring-around games. But we must remember, dear, that he didn't know that Adam had been a pet of yours. He thought he WAS just a common rooster. We must be just, even when we are terribly hurt."