“Yes,” said George, “but ma says I didn’t get enough.”
“I’ll go with you,” said his sister. “Bass, will you come along?”
“No,” said the young man, indifferently, “I won’t.” He was adjusting his necktie and felt irritated.
“There ain’t any,” said George, “unless we get it off the cars. There wasn’t any cars where I was.”
“There are, too,” exclaimed Bass.
“There ain’t,” said George.
“Oh, don’t quarrel,” said Jennie. “Get the baskets and let’s go right now before it gets too late.”
The other children, who had a fondness for their big sister, got out the implements of supply—Veronica a basket, Martha and William buckets, and George, a big clothes-basket, which he and Jennie were to fill and carry between them. Bass, moved by his sister’s willingness and the little regard he still maintained for her, now made a suggestion.
“I’ll tell you what you do, Jen,” he said. “You go over there with the kids to Eighth Street and wait around those cars. I’ll be along in a minute. When I come by don’t any of you pretend to know me. Just you say, ‘Mister, won’t you please throw us some coal down?’ and then I’ll get up on the cars and pitch off enough to fill the baskets. D’ye understand?”
“All right,” said Jennie, very much pleased.