Harold turned and looked to where May Nell stood with the twins, sorting her flowers. “Isn’t she a daisy, though? Little—why, she’s only a baby.”
“Look out! She’s ten, an’ never been to school; but she’s read more things ’n you ’n me put together, Pretty. Knows ’em, too.” Billy introduced the two in characteristic fashion and went within.
“Mamma, Pretty’s finishing the lawn for me; can’t I rub the floors right now? The Gang’s coming and we want to do a lot to-day.”
“Never mind the floors, Billy. You’ve worked hard already; run off and have a good time.”
Another time he would have gone quickly enough, for he liked work as little as the average boy, often shirked it; though when he forgot himself in his task, the joy of doing it well held him to it. But May Nell’s coming and the added expense still troubled him; and it was a resolute face he turned to his mother. “No, mamma, you shan’t get down on your marrow bones to these old floors. It’s only me that needs to go on the knees, you know.” His eyes twinkled.
He knew it was he and his friends who were never denied “the run of the house,” that brought in most of the gray film that settled so quickly on the dark floors; it was not fair to leave this back-aching task to his mother. He hustled out the rugs, found dusting cloth, wax, and rubber, and set vigorously at it, working so fast that he was nearly finished when she returned to the room.
“That’s enough, Billy. Jimmy Dorr and George Packard are coming.” She was a sensible woman, yet she disliked to expose her boy to Jimmy’s caustic tongue. But Billy was equal to more than Jimmy.
“Let ’em come. What do I care for Sour ’n Shifty? I’ll never desert Micawber this near success.” He rubbed on calmly, and the two boys came in at the open door.
“Hello, Billy! You washin’ floors?” There was a sneer in Jimmy’s voice.
“Sure.” Billy looked up from all fours and grinned. “I haven’t got two able-bodied sisters like Vilette an’ Echo to work for me; and you wouldn’t have me see my mother do it, would you?”