“I don’t see any use in making such a fuss about it,” he protested. “A fellow can’t stay cooped up here all day when there’s nothing the matter with him; he needs fresh air; every doctor says you need fresh air!”
“Every doctor doesn’t say you need wet feet,” replied Nan severely. “Where did you go?”
“Who go?”
“You.”
“Me? Where’d I go? Oh, just—just around.” Kid waved an arm vaguely toward the north and east. “Just for a walk. Perhaps—perhaps you’d better put them over by the radiator.”
“And have everyone see that they’re wet! Very well, if you want to get into trouble I will.”
“I guess you’d better not,” said Kid.
“Humph!” Nan placed the shoes carefully on their sides and as far under the bed as she could reach and there was silence. Finally, “Of course, if you don’t want to tell me, all right,” she observed.
“I will tell you some time,” said Kid. “I can’t now; it—it’s a secret.”