“I don’t see anything so very queer about it, myself,” said Johnny, contentedly, adding, with a little enjoyment of having the best of it, for once, with Jim, “papa says, that if we think more than two people are queer to us, we may be pretty sure that we are the queer ones, and that the rest of the world is about as usual—at least, that’s the sense of what he said; I don’t remember the words exactly.”
“I wasn’t thinking of myself just then, for a wonder!” said Jim, with the slightly mocking expression on his face which Johnny did not like. “It’s a good enough world for me, but when I see a little chap like Taffy getting all the kicks and none of the halfpence, I don’t know exactly what to think. He’s taken a new turn, lately; twisted up with pain, half the time, and as weak as a kitten, the other half.”
“Where is he, anyhow?” asked Johnny.
“Well,” said Jim, turning suddenly red under his coat of tan, “I’ve got him round at my place. The fact is, it was too unhandy for me to go and look after him at that other place; it was noisy, too. He didn’t like it.”
Several questions rose to Johnny’s lips, but he repressed them; he had discovered that nothing so embarrassed Jim as being caught in some good work. So he only asked,—
“But how did my new knife make you think of Taffy?”
“Oh, never mind!” and Jim began to walk away.
“But I do mind!” said Johnny, following him and catching his arm. “And I do wish you wouldn’t think it is smart to be so dreadfully mysterious. Come, out with it!”
“Very well, then,” said Jim, stopping suddenly, “if you don’t like it, maybe you’ll know better another time. It made me think of him because I have been meaning to buy him one of those knives as soon as I could raise the cash, but I’ve had to spend all I could make lately for other things. The little chap keeps grunting about a knife he once found in the street, and lost again; and he seems to fancy that when he’s doing something with his hands he don’t feel the pain so much. He cuts out pictures with an old pair of scissors I happened to have, whenever I can get him any papers, but he likes best to whittle, and he broke the last blade of that old knife of mine the other day; he’s been fretting about it ever since. I’m glad you’ve got the knife, Johnny, since you’re so pleased about it, and wanted it so, but I couldn’t help thinking—” and here Jim abruptly turned a corner, and was gone before Johnny could stop him.