didn’t go and send him right away? They didn’t put him on a morning train? They didn’t not give me a chance? They didn’t let somebody else fix him?”
Jamie straightened up.
“Honey,” he said, “I’m afraid they did.”
“Well, I call that a dirty gyp!” sobbed the little Scout.
“It ain’t giving the Bee Master any show, and it ain’t giving me any show! When he liked me the best, he would have wanted me to fix him. Mother would have come with me and so would Dad. Doctor Grayson knew all about me, and I’m goin’ to tell him what I think of that kind of business! I’ve called him on the ’phone maybe half-a-dozen times and got him here and run as tight as I could lick to get what he wanted and to heat water and to help him. He knew darn well who the Bee Master would want to fix him up to go to see God! It ain’t fair!”
Then the little person collapsed and Jamie had his chance at comforting. By and by, when both of them were calmer, they sat on the bench side by side and dried their eyes on the same handkerchief.
“Did he divide things the way you’d like to have ’em?” asked the small person, in abrupt change, as was habitual. “Did he give you the side of the garden you’d most rather have?”
“Why, I’m perfectly satisfied,” said Jamie. “I don’t see any difference.”
“I do,” said the little Scout. “If I’d got to take my choice, I’d ’a’ said the east side.”
