"Out with it."
"Just that—well, you see, I've never done it—always had you. But I'm thinking it must be rather fun to fold things carefully, and put them in cedar chests, and sprinkle moth-balls over them, and tuck them in with tar-paper."
"And you think wrong," said Martha. "It is no fun at all."
"Oh!" said the Poor Boy. "You're used to it. You've always done it. But I haven't."
"No more," said Martha, "have you ever knit a comforter."
"I think that would be fun too," twinkled the Poor Boy; "a very little comforter. I should use very thick worsted and make very big, loopy, spready stitches. I think, if you don't mind, I'll put my own things away for the summer."
Martha clutched the bag and the roll of paper tighter. Her jaws set.
"Don't be selfish, Martha."
Her jaws relaxed.
"What do I do first, Martha?"