"Faith, Mother, I don't know," laughed Walter. "I expect it's because I see chores to do when I'm afloat that I can't see ashore. It is the way I was born."
"A poor way."
"Maybe it is. At any rate I can't help it."
"I'm afraid you do not try to help it very hard."
The lad shrugged his shoulders.
"There's that chance you have to hire out at the Crowninshields' for the summer."
"Those snobs."
"Beggars cannot be choosers. Besides, they may not be snobs at all. What makes you think they are?"
"Oh, I don't mind the lugs they put on," protested Walter, evading the issue. "I suppose all New York swells do that. It's what they want me for that gets my goat." Again the knife he held was tragically upraised. "How would you like to be nursemaid to six or eight brainless little pups no bigger than rats? Not but what I like dogs. I'd like nothing better than to own a fine dog of some spirit. But those imitations! Why, before a week was out, I'd have their necks wrung."
"Mr. Crowninshield promised to pay you well."