His mother still made him put on a long, checked pinafore to come to meals. His father used a white napkin. And he did wipe dishes for her, and help with the vegetables on Saturday. He could spread up a bed as neatly as a girl, but he kept these accomplishments to himself.
There was another excitement among the small people. Mr. Bradbury, who for years was destined to be the children's delight, was teaching singing classes and giving concerts with his best pupils. Mrs. Dean decided to let the girls go to the four o'clock class. Hanny would join them. They could study the Sunday lesson before or afterward.
"If I only could go," sighed the boy. The tears came into his eyes.
"And you can sing just lovely!" declared Tudie.
Josie stood up with a warmly flushing face.
"I do believe I'd raise an insurrection. It isn't as if you wanted to do anything wicked, like swearing or stealing. And my father said God gave beautiful voices to people to sing with."
"But if I asked mother she wouldn't let me go. And—I couldn't run away. You see that would be just for once. Perhaps then I wouldn't be let to come over here, afterward," the boy replied sadly.
"Couldn't you coax?" asked Hanny.
"I could just ask, and she'd say no."
Hanny felt so sorry for him. He was very fair and had pretty, but rather timid eyes.