All heads hung limp except Geordie's. Both his head and his hand went up. "I never," he said, "I haint toch my hand to a game of keeps this whole school."
"Thank heaven," I said, surprised but grateful.
But Taulbee was slowly rising in his chair, eyes glued on Geordie, finger pointing. "'F you never played no keeps, where'd you git all them marvles you been a-selling us right along?" he demanded.
"I made 'em," replied Geordie.
"I know you made 'em at first, in that mill we broke up for you under the stable-lot fence. But you sold all them out the first week,—I seed you sell the last. Where'd you get t'others you been selling sence? I bought four sets off of you, and Philip six, and Killis and Keats about nine apiece, and Jason I reckon a dozen, and all the rest of the boys and the day-schools has been running to you a month, and sweating to get money to pay you for marvles. Where'd they come from?"
"Did you ever see me play ary keep this school?" inquired Geordie.
"Don't know as I did; but I seed you hangin' round all the time."
Geordie turned to Philip: "Didn't you see me git beat every time I played last summer?" he inquired.
"Yes, I did," replied Philip.
"Well, I haint played no more keeps sence. I know I can't play, and I haint fool enough to throw away good marvles."