'Because, my dear little boy,' said I, trying to be patient, but meat is heavy, and I knew it to be raw, and I feared every moment to feel a dreadful dampness oozing through the paper, and I was out of breath, and no longer completely calm, 'you engaged to pull it up for us, and having engaged to do it it is your duty to do it. I will not come between a boy and his duty.'
The boy looked at Vicki. 'How she talks,' he said.
Vicki and I again stared at each other in silent wonder, and while we were staring he pulled the sled sideways across the road and sat down.
'Come, come,' said I, striving after a brisk severity.
'I am tired,' he said, leaning his chin on his hand and studying first my face and then Vicki's with a detached, impartial scrutiny.
'We too are tired,' said I, 'and see, yet we carry the heavy parcels for you. The sled, empty, is quite light.'
'Then why do you not pull it yourself?' he asked again.
'Anyhow,' said Vicki, 'while he sits there we needn't hold these great things.' And she put the volumes on the sled, and I let the meat drop on it, which it did with a horrible, soft, heavy thud.
The boy sat motionless.
'Let him get his wind,' said Vicki, turning away to look over the edge of the road at the view.