The smaller boy's face lit up a moment at reference to the sacred institution whose departure had left life so dreary.
"Charlie Winter found a shirt-stud an' half a pair of braces there," he said sympathetically; "he gave the shirt-stud to his sister, but he wears the braces hisself," he added, completing the humble tale.
"Which'll you take?" Harvey enquired abruptly, fearful lest the sorrel might awaken to his liberty.
"I don't want that," the younger said contemptuously, glancing at the emaciated tooth-brush; "we've got one at home—a better one than that. An' I don't wear garters," he added scornfully, glancing downwards at his bare legs, "except on Sundays, an' I've got one for that—the left leg never comes down. Haven't you got anything else?" he queried, looking searchingly in the direction of Harvey's pocket.
"No, that's all I've got," returned Harvey as he restored the tooth-brush to its resting-place, still hopeful, however, of the garter. "It'll make an awful good catapult," he suggested seriously.
"Let me see it," said the bargainer.
Harvey handed it to him. "I'll hold your apple," he offered.
"Oh, never mind," the other replied discreetly; "I'll just hold it in my mouth," the memory of similar service and its tragic outcome floating before him. The boy took the flaming article in his hand and drew it back, snapping it several times against the sole of his uplifted foot.
"All right," he said, withdrawing what survived of the apple, "it's a little mushy—but I'll take it."
The errand having been repeated in detail, the youngster departed to perform it, an apple stem—but never a core—falling by the wayside as he went. Harvey gazed towards the brow of the hill till he caught the first glimpse of a hurrying form, then slipped in behind the tree, carefully concealed.