“Who give you that ring?” he asked sharply.
“A little bird brought it to me,” she said, trying to speak gayly, and blushing again.
“A big, red-headed peckerwood,” said Billy savagely.
“Maurice loves you, too,”—she hoped to conciliate him; “he says you are the brightest kid in town.”
“Kid,” was the scornful echo, “'cause he's so big and tall, he's got to call me a kid. Well, he'd jes' awasting' hi'self lovin' me; I don't like him an' I ain't agoin' to never like him an' soon's I puts on long pants he's goin' to get 'bout the worses' lickin' he ever did see.
“Say, does you kiss him like you does me?” he asked presently, looking up at her with serious, unsmiling face.
She hid her embarrassment in a laugh.
“Don't be foolish, Billy,” she replied.
“I'll bet he's kissed you more 'n fifty hunderd times.”
“There's Jimmy whistling for you,” said Miss Cecilia. “How do you two boys make that peculiar whistle? I would recognize it anywhere.”