“We have to stand a little noise in the house sometimes, Fanny, when there are boys. They're just playing, and a lot of noise is usually a pretty safe sign.”
“Yes'm,” Fanny said. “It's yo' house, Miz Williams, not mine. You want 'em tear it down, I'm willin'.”
She departed, and Mrs. Williams continued to sew. The days were growing short, and at five o'clock she was obliged to put the work aside, as her eyes did not permit her to continue it by artificial light. Descending to the lower floor, she found the house silent, and when she opened the front door to see if the evening paper had come, she beheld Sam, Penrod and Maurice Levy standing near the gate engaged in quiet conversation. Penrod and Maurice departed while she was looking for the paper, and Sam came thoughtfully up the walk.
“Well, Sam,” she said, “it wasn't such a bad thing, after all, to show a little politeness to Georgie Bassett, was it?”
Sam gave her a non-committal look—expression of every kind had been wiped from his countenance. He presented a blank surface.
“No'm,” he said meekly.
“Everything was just a little pleasanter because you'd been friendly, wasn't it?”
“Yes'm.”
“Has Georgie gone home?”
“Yes'm.”