“Without bringing light to your brain.”
“I shall change my place,” said Archelaus; he stood up, stepped past the girl, and seated himself above her.
“Now,” said he, “I can look down on, and seek for blemishes in your head.”
“You will find none there—eh! Arkie? Shall I make my fortune with my hair? Coin it into gold and wear purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day? That is what I want and will have, and I don’t care how I get it; so long as I get it. My head and hair are not for you.”
Then she stood up, strode past Archelaus, and planted herself on the step higher than that he occupied.
“This is a queer keeping company, tandem fashion, and changing the leader,” laughed Archelaus.
“We are not keeping company,” answered Thomasine. “Tandem is best as we are, single best of all.”
“I don’t see why we should not keep company,” said the lad.
“I do,” answered Thomasine sharply, “have I not made it plain to you that I didn’t want a life of drudgery, and that I choose to have a life in which I may amuse myself?”
“Let us try to sit on the same step,” said Archelaus, “and then we can discuss the matter together, better than as we are, with one turning the back on the other.”