"You'd be a better colour," said Matilda. "Just come and see."
"I ain't green," the boy remonstrated.
Matilda passed on, went into Mr. Sample's and got her soda. She had a few cents of change. A thought came into her head. Peeping out, she saw that Mrs. Dow's boy was still lingering where she had left him. Immediately Matilda requested to have the worth of those cents in sugared-almonds; and with her little packages went into the street again. The boy eyed her.
"What is your name?" said Matilda.
"Hain't got none."
"Yes, you have. What does your mother call you at home?"
"She calls me—the worst of all her plagues," said the fellow, grinning.
"No, no; but when she calls you from somewhere—what does she call you?"
"She calls me out of the garding and down from the attic."
"Look here," said Matilda, showing a sugar-plum; "I'll give you that, if you will tell me."