“You don’t know what watered stock is; you’re so smart,” Pee-wee sneered.
“Sure, it’s milk,” Roy said. “Right the first time, no sooner said than stung.”
“Never laugh at poverty,” Westy said, as all the party began to shout. “We’re poor but dishonest.”
“Sure,” Roy ejaculated, “we wouldn’t even steal a cent, that’s why we haven’t any sense; deny it if you dare.”
“We can sell papers at the station,” Westy said.
“Sure, the Saturday Evening Post,” Roy said. “We can do golden deeds and get gold that way. We should bother our young lives. What care us, quoth we? We’ll think of a way. All we need is fifty dollars to put tar-paper on the roof and a new cook stove in the car.”
“Money talks,” the kid shouted.
“Good night!” said Roy, “then we don’t want any of it. You do enough talking in this troop.”
“Are you fellows all one outfit?” asked a young man who had been leaning against the opposite counter, amused at their talk.
“United we stand, divided we sprawl,” Roy said. “There are more of us, too, only they’re not here. They’re by the river.”