“Not much; never tried much,” said Larry, flushing over his lack of sporting qualifications.
“He plays the fiddle,” said a quiet little voice.
Larry, flushing violently, turned around and saw a little, brown-faced maid gazing thoughtfully at him.
“Oh, he does, eh? Ha, ha, ha. Good game, eh? Ha, ha, ha.” They all joined in the laugh.
“And he plays the mouth organ, too, and does funny stunts,” sturdily continued the little girl, disdaining Tom's scornful laughter.
“Good for you, Jane.”
“Yes, and he passed his entrance to the High School a year ago when he was fourteen, in Ontario, anyway.” This appeared to check Tom's hilarity.
“My, what a wonder he is! And did he tell you all this himself?”
“No, indeed,” said Jane indignantly.
“Oh, I am glad to hear that,” said Tom with a grin. “Won't you come along, Sam? It's only a little way down.”