He flushed under his thick freckles, and plucked at the grass nervously.
"N-n—yes, I am!" he shouted defiantly. "I know lots of people don't think so, but I am! We earn our way, William Thayer an' me, an' we don't want much. I don't see as we do any harm. It don't take much to live, anyhow; it's coal-scuttles an' lookin'-glasses an'—an' carpets that cost money. And if you don't want them—oh, what's the use talking? I never could live all tied up."
"Caroline! Caroline!" A loud voice cut across her meditative silence. She shrugged her shoulders stubbornly and put her finger on her lip. The boy shook his head.
"You better go," he said soothingly. "You'll have to sometime, you know. Here, take these," as she jumped up, forgetting the fork and the salt-shaker. "Be sure to put 'em back where you got 'em, won't you?"
"Oh, leave 'em here. I'll come back," she said carelessly, but the boy insisted.
"No, you take 'em right now," he commanded. "I wouldn't want any mistake made."
