“She was born at a time when it wasn’t fashionable to be good-looking,” answered Tom. “She is short, wrinkled, and walks a little lame.”
“That’s she.”
“I told her I was the grandson of General Washington’s first cousin,” said Tom, “and the old fright believed it.”
“I fear, my young friend, that you are not sufficiently regardful of the truth,” expostulated Mr. Middleton, with mild censure.
“Oh, I was only chaffing. If she believes it, it won’t do her any harm.”
“I had a fight besides,” continued Tom.
“A fight! Not with Miss Peabody?” asked Mrs. Middleton, horror-stricken.
“Not much. I don’t fight with women,” said Tom. “It was with two boys. One said his father was a lawyer.”
“It must be James Davenport,” said Nathan, disturbed. “How came you to fight with him?”
“He and another fellow were pitching ball, and wouldn’t let me into the game, so I grabbed the ball, and they went for me.”