They were whispering in that sort of penetrating whisper that floats so far in the open air, and which some, girls, particularly, do not seem to know can be heard a few feet away. Jerry could hear distinctly; in fact unless he stopped his ears with his hands he could not help hearing.
And the old rule, that listeners never hear any good of themselves, applied here.
"There's that Jerry who lives at the Smiths'," said whisperer number one, "do look what a fright; I guess he has borrowed a pair of Job Smith's overalls! Isn't it a shame that such a nice-looking boy is deserted in that way, and left to run with all sorts of people?"
"I heard that he wasn't deserted; that his father was only staying out West, or down South, or somewhere for awhile."
"Oh! that's a likely story," said whisperer number one, her voice unconsciously growing louder. "Just as if any father who was anybody, would leave a boy at Job Smith's for months, and never come near him. I think it is real mean; they say the Smiths keep him at work all the while, fishing; he about supports them, and the Deckers too, with fish and things."
At this point the amused listener nearly forgot himself and whistled.
"Oh well, that's as good a way as any to spend his time; he knows enough to catch fish and do such things, and when he is old enough, I suppose he will learn a trade; but I must say I think he is a nice-looking fellow."
"He would be, if he dressed decently. The boys like him real well; they say he is smart; and I shouldn't wonder if he was; big eyes twinkle as though he might be. If he wouldn't keep running with that Decker girl all the time, he might be noticed now and then."