But Sammy, feeling shy at the question and vaguely aggrieved, looked up and down the street and kicked the pavement with his heel instead of answering.
"I shall go, then," said Beth, after waiting for a little.
"No, don't," he exclaimed, his countenance clearing. "I want to ask you—only you put it out of my head—gels do talk so."
"Gels!" Beth exclaimed derisively. "I happen to be a girl."
Sammy looked at her with a puzzled expression, and forgot what he was going to say. She diverted his attention, however, by asking him how old he was.
"Eleven," Sammy answered promptly.
"So am I. When were you eleven?"
"Oh, then you're older than me—March, April, May, June—four months. My birthday's in June. What do you do at school? Let's see your books. I wish I went to school!"
"Shu!" said Sammy. "What's the use of sending a gel to school? Gels can't learn."