They were 'chums,' as she used to say.
She couldn't see any of his faults--and he WAS a taking sort of man in some ways.
"Well, when Leslie was twelve years old, the first dreadful thing happened.

She worshipped little Kenneth--he was four years younger than her, and he WAS a dear little chap.

And he was killed one day--fell off a big load of hay just as it was going into the barn, and the wheel went right over his little body and crushed the life out of it.

And mind you, Anne, Leslie saw it.

She was looking down from the loft.