“How did you get them holes in your breeches, kid?” added the boy.
“Never you mind,” rejoined Sammy gruffly. “They’re my pants.”
“Stuck up, ain’t you?” jeered the girl and stuck out her tongue at him.
Sammy thought these were two very impolite children, and although he was not rated at home for his own chivalrous conduct, he considered these specimens in the road before him quite unpleasant young people.
“Ne’er mind,” said the boy, looking at Sammy slyly, “he don’t know everything. He ain’t seen everything if he is traveling all by himself. I bet he’s run away.”
“I ain’t running away from you,” was Sammy’s belligerent rejoinder.
“You would if I said ‘Boo!’ to you.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Ya!” scoffed the girl, leering at Sammy, “don’t talk so much. Do something to him, Peter.”
Peter glanced warily back at the house. Perhaps he knew the large, red-faced woman might take a hand in proceedings if he pitched upon the strange boy.