"I'm lonesome. I don't like nobody here." His voice dropped. "An'—an' they don't like me."
"Aw, now, Freddy——"
"Maybe Miss Mary does. But Miss Eva don't. Anyway, I ain't no use to anybody here. What's the sense of stayin' where you ain't no use? An' they're always callin' me down. I don't do nothin' right. I can't even talk so's they'll like it. Florette liked the way I talked all right. An' you get what I mean, don't you, Bert? But they don't know nothin'. Why, they don't know nothin', Bert! Why, there's one boy ain't ever been inside a theatre! What-ta you know about that, Bert? Gee, Bert, I'm awful glad you come! I'd 'a' bust not havin' somebody to talk to."
Bert was silent. He still held Freddy in his arms. His heart reeled at the thought of what he must tell the child. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not come.
Freddy chattered on, loosing the flood gates of his accumulated loneliness. He told how Florette had bidden him "learn to be a li'l gem'mum," and how he really tried; but how silly were the rules that governed a gentlemanly existence; how the other li'l gem'mum laughed at him, and talked of things he had never heard of, and never heard of the things he talked of, until at last he had ceased trying to be one of them.
"You tell Florette I gotta leave this place," he concluded firmly.
"Bert, now you tell Florette. Will you, Bert? Huh?"
"Freddy—I——Freddy, lissen now. I got somethin' to tell you."
"What?"
"I—I come on to tell you, Freddy. Tha's why I come out to tell you, see?"
"Well, spit it out," Freddy laughed.