“I suppose so,” he murmured.
“My brother Willie's been at your house all afternoon,” she remarked.
He repeated, “I suppose so,” but in a tone which combined the vocal tokens of misery and of hopeless animosity.
“He just went home,” said Jane. “I was 'cross the street from your house, but I guess he didn't see me. He kept lookin' back at your house. Miss Pratt was on the porch.”
“I suppose so.” This time it was a moan.
Jane proceeded to give him some information. “My brother Willie isn't comin' back to your house to-night, but he doesn't know it yet.”
“What!” exclaimed Mr. Parcher.
“Willie isn't goin' to spend any more evenings at your house at all,” said Jane, thoughtfully. “He isn't, but he doesn't know it yet.”
Mr. Parcher gazed fixedly at the wonderful child, and something like a ray of sunshine flickered over his seamed and harried face. “Are you SURE he isn't?” he said. “What makes you think so?”
“I know he isn't,” said demure Jane. “It's on account of somep'm I told mamma.”