"Think you might have shared with a fella."
"Well, you see, Willie, I didn't know anything about them. None of us did. I thought I smelled something good in the pantry, and when Effie went upstairs I sneaked in to see. Sure enough, there was a bag of bananas, real soft and sweet, don't you know. I et one and then I et another and, before I knew it, they were all gone. Then Effie caught me as I was coming out."
"Will she tell on you?"
"No, I don't think she'll tell on me. But she says I'm going to be awful sick. I was once before. So I'm just waiting."
"Aw, you're not going to be sick, Margery. That's only Effie's bluff. Listen: I'm going out blackberrying. There are just dead loads of great big ripe ones on the graveyard patch. My mother'll give me ten cents if I bring her back two quarts."
Margery looked at the tin pail longingly. She, too, would go blackberrying, but she realized that home was the best place for sick folk.
"Aw, come on," Willie urged. "You're not going to be sick. I bet anything you're not."
Confidence begets confidence, and, looking at Willie Jones's tin pail, Margery began to wonder whether, after all, Effie's prophecy might not prove a false one.
"I tell you what, Willie: Wait a minute and I'll ask Effie."
"Why do you got to ask her?"