Her expression changed to one of scorn.
"Prison, of course! Silly!"
William was half offended, half thrilled.
"Well, I couldn't know it was prison, could I? How could I know it was prison without bein' told? It might of been out of anything. What—" in hushed curiosity and awe—"what was he in prison for?"
"Stealin'."
Her pride was unmistakable. William looked at her in disapproval.
"Stealin's wicked," he said virtuously.
"Huh!" she jeered, "you can't steal! You're too soft! Softie! You can't steal without bein' copped fust go, you can't."
"I could!" he said indignantly. "And, any way, he got copped di'n't he? or he'd not of been in prison, so there!"
"He di'n't get copped fust go. It was jus' a sorter mistake, he said. He said it wun't happen again. He's a jolly good stealer. The cops said he was and they oughter know."