“Boss? of what?”
“Of the—the diggin’s—the whole layout—” More by the boy’s gestures than his words, Alice concluded he meant her uncle’s business rather than the home.
“Why, no, I don’t suppose I am, child.”
“Who is, then? The lawyer guy?”
“Judge Hoyt? No,—what do you want to know for?”
“Well, Miss, I want a day off—off me job, you know.”
“Oh, is that all? You are—were my uncle’s office boy, weren’t you?”
“Yes’m.”
“And your name is Fibsy?”
“Well, dat name goes.”