"He threw it because he's a mean, mean boy," cried Sara.
"I threw it to punish you, because you were selfish. She's mean herself, Father. Here I help her get tin-foil and she won't even let me touch it."
"When Gladys is alone, she's bad; and when Sara's alone, she's bad; but when both of them's together, they're fifteen times as bad! So Sara went to get it, and she ran away."
"Yes, I ran away—and I ran away—and I ran away—and I hid!" cried Sara in triumph. Then her voice softened to sweetness. "And I thought poor Gladys, my darling Gladys, she'll have to carry the scraps all alone in the hot sun! I won't be mean to my Gladys, no matter if Robert is a bad, bad boy! So I came back" Her voice faltered a little over her own sweetness and goodness.
"She came back, mother," cried Robert, "and she stood away by a tree, bawling, 'Oh, no, you don't get me! Oh, no! Let Gladys come here a minute.' And she whispered in Gladys' ear, and, mother, they ran away together! So I put down the scraps and I ran after them."
It had been a terrific chase, racing over cross lots, through forbidden ways in people's yards, hiding in chicken-houses.
"And, mother, he never would have caught us, except that we caught a ride on a slow team."
Into Sara's mind there had flickered nothing but pride for her duplicity. She had been shameless and gloried in it. She had met the brutality of man with guile, but now the terrible and unjust burden which man has forever laid on woman overwhelmed her.
"And then, mother—what did he do then? Yes, what did he do? He marched us back after that horrid old
