Lydia ignored his offer. "Billy, is there any way a girl like me could earn $600?" she asked him.
"Golly, not that I know of! Why?"
"Oh, I just asked. I wish I was a man."
Billy looked at the scarlet cheeks and the blowing yellow curls. "I don't," he said. "What's worrying you, Lyd?"
"Nothing," she insisted. Then, anxious to change the subject, she asked, "What're you studying to be, Billy?"
"A farmer. Next year I shift into the long agric. course."
"Goodness!" exclaimed Lydia, "I don't see what you want to study to be a farmer for. I should think you'd want to be something classy like a lawyer or—or something."
"Lots of folks think the same way, but I believe a farmer's the most independent man in the world. And that's what I want to be, independent—call no man boss."
"That's me too, Billy," cried Lydia, pausing at her gate. "That's what
I want to be, independent. That's what real Americans are."
"You're a funny little girl," said Billy. "What made you think of that?"