"Say, mister," he began as soon as noticed, "you have tore your pants on a nail."
"Thanks," said Brown, coldly; "will you be good enough to mind your business?"
"I thought I'd tell you," said the small boy, delightedly aware that the information displeased Brown. "They're tore awful, too. That's what you get for playin' onto back fences. Y'orter be ashamed."
Brown feigned unconsciousness and folded his arms with dignity; but the next moment he straightened up, quivering.
"You young devil!" he said; "if you pull that slingshot again I'll come over there and destroy you!"
At the same moment above the fence line down the block a white straw hat appeared; then a youthful face becomingly flushed; then two dainty, gloved hands grasping the top of the fence.
"I am here," she called across to him.
The small boy, who had climbed to the top of his fence, immediately joined the conversation:
"Your girl's a winner, mister," he observed, critically.
"Are you going to keep quiet?" demanded Brown, starting across the fence.