“I am going to tell you because I know you aren't too good, if you do wear curls and little stockings.”
“No, I ain't too good,” declared Arnold Carruth, proudly; “I ain't—HONEST, Johnny.”
“That's why I'm going to tell you. But if you tell any of the other boys—or girls—”
“Tell girls!” sniffed Arnold.
“If you tell anybody, I'll lick you.”
“Guess I ain't afraid.”
“Guess you'd be afraid to go home after you'd been licked.”
“Guess my mamma would give it to you.”
“Run home and tell mamma you'd been whopped, would you, then?”
Little Arnold, beautiful baby boy, straightened himself with a quick remembrance that he was born a man. “You know I wouldn't tell, Johnny Trumbull.”