“You have to say we’re not pretending like girls do,” he insisted relentlessly as she buried her head in her poor little thin arm and sobbed more and more. “You have to say it. Do you cross your heart? Is it going to be a success? Are we going to make lots of money—sure? You have to say we’re not just fooling like girls. Do you say it? You’re not just playing?”
“N—no.”
“Cross your heart.”
Her freckly hands went crossways on her heaving breast.
“It’s business just like—like Mr. Drowser’s store. Is it?”
She nodded her head.
“Say
If I cross my heart and don’t mean what I say,
I hope to drop dead the very same day.
Say that?”