“Well, just as you will have it,” he stated, “but—I know.”
“Mr. Deane,” I said, “will you please take my cream puffs?”
He said, “No, my dear.” Said it with his chin set and his head high.
I waited for a moment, looking up at him. “Won’t you please?” I said, and I was perfectly amazed; my voice shook.
“You know I’m hungry, don’t you?” he asked stiffly.
I nodded, “That’s the reason I’m trying to give them to you,” I explained. “I don’t need them; Miss Julianna always gives us nice meals, and I only got them for diversion. I thought I’d eat them coming home because Mr. Paggi makes me nervous, but I’d forgotten my best suit, and that I had to carry an umbrella—and that made eating them difficult—” I paused, and looked up to see that my new friend wasn’t looking over my head any more, but down at me.
“It’s a devil of an agent who is making my trouble,” he confided, “he gave me an order, and now—try as hard as I may—I can’t make the thing suit him; and I can’t tell now whether he’s right, or whether he wants to revoke the order and is doing it by finding fault. You see, I can’t see the thing straight any more—”
Suddenly I thought of Mr. Wake, who knows a great deal about pictures, and I felt that he would help Sam Deane; I was sure of it. It made me smile. “I know,” I said, “that things will change soon—”
Then Sam Deane said something that was kind, but of course nonsense. He said, “They have changed; you—you’ve made them—”
I poked the hole between the bricks after I said thank you, and then I realized that it must be getting late, and that I would be late for dinner if I didn’t hurry, so I held out the bag.