It was a rehabilitated Moses that alternately darted and jogged along by her side. He was wearing one of the half-dozen shirts that Grandmother had cut and made by the famous Butterick pattern from which the girls had fashioned the garment he wore on his appearance at the bean supper. His trousers were the veritable "pants" of his dreams, and the rudiments of suspenders, with which he would not part, were tucked in under his belt. His face was comparatively clean, and he had allowed Elizabeth to brush his heavy, upstanding hair until it looked almost personable.
"What are those things around your neck?" Elizabeth cried, catching sight of an extraordinary decoration only partially concealed by his shirt collar.
"Shark's teeth. I wear 'em for luck. I cut 'em out myself."
"Cut them out of what?"
"Sharks. What'd you think I got 'em from? Cats or something?"
"Moses, you've got to learn to be a little more respectful to me. I don't like the way you speak to me."
"All right," he agreed, amiably.
"Where did you get those teeth from?"
"I told you I got 'em from sharks. I go down to the shore when the boats come in from their weir. You know, the men bring in a lot of fish every day. Well, yesterday they brought in four sharks and they let me cut out these teeth. I could of got more if my knife had been sharper, or I'd had more time. Every night they give me a fish, too."
"That doesn't sound a bit probable, about the sharks. Still, I never caught you telling a lie, Moses. What do you do with the fish they give you?"