“Did you ever know a boy of your age to have a husband?”
The blue eyes grew so wide open that I wondered if they could ever shut themselves up again; and Laura, who had turned round at my question, looked as if she thought I had suddenly gone mad. The little dressmaker had opened the door, and stood there waiting meekly, with the handle in her hand. But my spirit was up, and I did not care for either of them. I asked again, very impressively, as I thought, with a pause after each word,—
“Did—you—ever—know—a—boy—of—your—age—to—have—a—husband?”
“No, marm,” he gasped, “husbands belongs to women.”
“Then what do you wear this thing for? It says that you have lost your husband in the war.”
The imp actually turned pale, and I almost pitied him.
“Will they put me in prison?” he asked, an abject little whine coming into his voice. “Will they?”
“Did you steal it?”
“I didn’t to say steal it—I just took it. I’d seen the rest put them on when they went out begging, and this was old Meg’s. She wasn’t going out to-day, and I thought no harm to borrow.”
“Then you can’t read?”