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Tim still stood on the ladder, his knees resting against the floor of the loft and keeping himself up as Wren leaned heavily into his shoulder. He looked with surprise at the girl who had frightened his younger sister and now sat weeping herself. Then he shook his head with a sigh. Girls were impossible and made absolutely no sense at all.
“Look here,” he said, “there’s no call for this. What’s wrong with you?”
Then, before Mirelle could answer, a voice called from below. “Can I help?”
Tim turned his head and looked down. At the foot of the ladder stood the form a woman. He could not really see her face in the dimness. “Probably not,” he answered. It was too late to bother about sounding interesting or very polite. “I don’t even know what the problem is yet. Say, Wren, do dry up and quit being such a rag. Sit up and get over it.” He half gently pushed her away and then finished climbing the ladder. “You can come up, if you’re wanting to find out what the problem is,” he called down. He turned his attention back to the girl. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and this time, his voice was softer. “Should we go and get Cook? She might be able to help, you know.”
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