She laid doll, parasol, and the little basket she held in her hand upon the rock, picked up the pocket-book, and pulling down the neck of her spencer, slipped it inside. Just at this moment the boy came up to her.
"Give me that," he said.
"What?" asked Bessie, drawing back from him.
"Don't you make believe you don't know,—that pocket-book. It's mine."
"It isn't," said Bessie; "it's the colonel's."
"No, 'taint; it's mine. Hand over now, else I'll make you."
"I sha'n't," said Bessie. "I know it's the colonel's. I've seen it a great many times, and just now he gave Mr. Howard some money out of it for the poor people who lost all their things."
"Are you going to give it to me?" said the boy, coming nearer to her.
"No," said Bessie, "I am not. I am going to give it to the colonel, and I shall tell him what a very naughty boy you are. Why, I'm afraid you're a stealer! Don't you know—"