"Ain't I fourteen, an' ain't I 'most six feet high?" answered back Sammy, defiantly. "An' didn't Dick Slade, who is only thirteen, go down last Fourth an' have a smashin' good time an' not git hurt?"
"But you ain't got no experience, Sammy."
"I've got enough to go to Springfield."
"No, you had better give up the notion."
"Now, mother, don't say that!" pleaded the son.
"But I do say it."
"Well, then I'm going to—to run away! I'll go to sea an' be a sailor, or sumthin'!" burst out Sammy, recklessly. "I'm sick o' workin' every single day!"
"Stop talking in that dreadful way, Sammy!" said Mrs. Borden, anxiously.
"Then you ask paw to let me go."
"'Twon't do no good."