“Who’s ’fraid!” he crowed, sitting up in my lap. “I ain’t ’fraid, am I?”
“Indeed not,” I returned. “Big boys like you are not afraid of anything. And now here’s a fine big nickel”—I went on because he had ignored the previous offer. “And here’s a card. Isn’t that nice?”
“Huhuh,” he replied.
“You mean you don’t like it—don’t want it?”
“Huhuh,” he repeated.
“And why not?”
“My mother won’t let me.”
“Your mother won’t let you take any money?”
“Huhuh.”
“Is that right?” I asked of the eldest boy, rather taken aback by the morals of this group—they were so orderly and sweet.