The door swung back.
“Miss Caarter say dat she’ll be down in a minute,” said the scrap.
Chad straightened his face and brought it down to a semblance of austerity; always a difficult task with Chad.
“Who did you say was yere?” he asked.
“I didn’t say—I handed her de kerd.”
“How did you carry it?”
“In my pan.”
“What did ye do wid de pan?”
The boy’s face fell.