“Can’t go frough the gate for one, two, three days; mamma said so.”
“What for?”
“’Cause—’cause—my runned away.”
“Well,” with a long-drawn breath, “let’s go on the front pizarro and play steam-boat; only—you’d better have a clean apron on. Such awful patched pants, an’ that jacket! Why, you’re ever so much the biggest!”
“Can’t help it,” said Tod sulkily. “Can’t have no other clothes on for the greatest long while.”
“Well, if I sha’n’t give it up! What for?”
“’Cause—’cause I played with the grindstone in my best jacket.”
“The-od-o-re Smith! Aunty’s told you over and over again she’d punish you if you did.”
“My knows it,” said Tod meekly: “an’ my mamma’s so pur-sistent; might have finked she would.”
“Of course. What a goose! Well, then, let’s go in the shed and play store.”