Johnny nodded.
"I knowed the basket," said Mr. Simlins returning. "That's about all that makes the difference between one boy and another! what sort of a basket he carries. The other fellow is the one I was speakin' to first—I can swear to him—the big one."
Mr. Linden took out his watch.
"Thank you, Mr. Simlins," he said. "Boys—it is half past four,—get your nuts and baskets and bring them up to the house. Reuben Taylor—do you see that it is done." With which words Mr. Linden also 'made tracks' for the house—and 'straight' ones, but with not too much notice-taking of the golden leaves under his feet.
The truth about Faith was this. While sitting on the grass, taking the pleasure of the place and time, the peace was at length broken by discordant sounds in her neighbourhood; sounds of harsh voices, and scuffling. Looking round for the cause and meaning of all this, she found that the voices came from behind a thicket of sumach and laurel at her back, and belonged to some of the boys. Faith went round the thicket. There were a big boy and a little boy tugging at a casket, both tugging; the little fellow holding to it with all his might, while the big boy, almost getting it from him with one hand, was laying the other very freely about his ears and shoulders. Faith heard the little one say, "I'll tell—"
And the other, a boy whose name Faith had learned only that morning, shouted in answer,
"You tell! You tell if you dare! You tell and I'll kill you!—Leave hold!"—
A round blow was given with the words, which told, but the little boy still held on to his basket.
"For shame, Phil Davids! you a big boy!"—said Faith.
There was a stay of proceedings while they looked at her, both parties keeping fast hold however, and both tongues at once combating for hearing and belief. The little boy, Johnny Fax himself, said the nuts were his; which the elder denied.