“He said, ‘Ah was christen’ Thomas!’” returned Tom, grinning. “So mother told him that I’d been christened Thomas, too, and asked him for his last name. And he said, ‘Ma las’ name’s Clay—but hit ain’ ma callin’ name. Ma callin’ name’s Thomas. But yo’-all kin call me Mistah Clay if yo’ want to!’”
“Did mother want to?” asked Winona.
“She nearly exploded,” said Tom, “but I think they came to some sort of a compromise. I don’t think he’ll leave her time to miss us, for a week or so anyway!”
“Well, I’m glad of that,” said Winona. “Tommy, did you ever know of anything I could do?”
“What on earth do you mean?” asked Tom, while Billy Lee, who had been silently fishing all this time, looked interested.
“I mean something I could do that would earn money,” she explained. “We want to stay in camp longer than we have money for, so we must earn it.”
“The thing you always were best at was darning my stockings,” said Tom cheerfully, and grinned.
“Oh, dear, I just knew you’d say that!” said Winona. “I can’t go round selling darns!”
Billy Lee lifted up his head from a tangle in his fishing-line as he answered, “I don’t see why you couldn’t. I mean—why couldn’t you do mending for the Scouts? If you’d be willing to, I know we’d be glad. There’s an awful lot of holes in my clothes.”
“And nobody to do them?” asked Winona, delighted.