A soiled and freckled boy, bare from the knees, whistled
by the window, jangling a can of bait, his pole balanced prettily on
one ragged shoulder. As he reached the puddle, a pure inconsequence
of good feeling seized him, and he splashed deliberately in it,
grinning around him. Caroline mechanically bent and unbuttoned the
top button of her stout boots. He caught her eye.
"Where you going?" she called through the glass.
"Oh, I d'no--anywheres, I guess!" he answered invitingly. "Want
to come?"
"I can't. I have to go to school," she said shortly.
"And so ought he--you ought to be ashamed of yourself, calling
through the window to that Simms boy!" cried a disgusted voice.
Caroline twitched her shoulder spitefully.
"A great girl like you, too! Why, he's no better than a common
tramp, that boy," proceeded the voice. "Look at his clothes!"
"Nobody wears good clothes to go fishing," Caroline grumbled. "I
wish he had mine!"
"Fishing! He never wears them anywhere. He hasn't got them to wear.
And he'd be glad enough to get yours, I can tell you."
"He wouldn't do any such thing! He told me Saturday he'd rather be a
dog than a girl; he'd get more use of his legs!"
There was a scandalized silence. Caroline waited grimly.
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