There was a round of applause at this, but the small maiden remained undaunted.
'Is that a true story you told?' she demanded, with severity in her tone.
'Of course it's true,' was the indignant shout of all.
'Then I tell you, boy, I don't believe a word of it!' And with set determined lips she turned on her heel and walked away, having sown seeds of anger and resentment in more than one boyish breast.
'Who is she?' asked Teddy as, tired and exhausted by his recital, he threw himself on the grass to rest. One of the bigger boys answered him.
'I seed her come yesterday in a cab from the town to old Sol at the turnpike—she and her mother, I reckon. They had two carpet bags and a box and a poll parrot in a cage. I counted them myself, for I was havin' a ride behind, and the woman she called Sol "Father," so the little 'un must be his grandarter!'
'P'raps they've come from 'Mericky,' suggested a small urchin, capering round on his hands and feet. 'Polls allays comes over the sea, you know.'
[Illustration: TEDDY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS FATHER'S HEROIC DEATH.]
'She didn't believe me,' murmured Teddy, chewing a wisp of grass meditatively.
'Gals is no good, never! If she'd been a boy you would 'a fought her, but
I shouldn't care for naught like her, Ted.'