“That girl knows something,” he said decisively.
“You don’t suppose it was she who—who—”
“Of course not,” said Spud disdainfully. “A kid like that? Not likely. But I wonder what she meant by saying it was easier to carry them this way. Sounds as though she knew something, don’t it?” And Cal had to agree that it did.
Spud sought information of Mrs. Linn.
“Who is the kid they’ve got over there, Marm?” he asked as they set the basket down in a corner of the kitchen.
“Kid?” said Mrs. Linn. “Oh, you mean the little girl. Why, she’s a niece, Spud. Did you see her? Miss Matilda was telling me about her. She’s come to spend the winter with them. She’s their brother’s child; Mr. George Curtis’s, I mean. He’s gone abroad or somewhere. What is she like, Spud?”
“She’s a fresh kid,” answered Spud, “and silly. She’s pretty, though, isn’t she, Cal?”
But Cal didn’t appear to have any opinion to express.
“Miss Matilda’s a haughty dame, isn’t she, Marm? Asked us if we wanted some apples and I said no, we didn’t care for them. And she said ‘Hmph, guess you’re the first West House boys that don’t. Probably you’d rather steal them.’ What do you think of that, Marm? Is that any way for a lady to speak to a gentleman? Two gentlemen?”
“Well now, Spud, you know you boys have made a good deal of trouble for Miss Matilda. She’s sort of sharp, I’ll say that, but she’s a real nice lady.”