"Goin' t' school, ain't you?"
Dee nodded without halting; Bea walked straight onward, her chin level, her white sun-bonnet hiding her face. To her horror and displeasure Flea stopped, and replied politely over the tumble-down fence:
"Good-morning, Mrs. Fogg! I hope you are all well to-day."
"Tolerable, thank God!" said the old woman, changing her tone into a snuffling whine. "Ain't you too soon fo' school? The teacher 'ain' gone by yet."
"We like to be in good time," rejoined Flea, affably. "Aren't your boys going?"
"No, bless you, honey. Major Duncomb won't let them go in on the county, an' pore folks ain't got no money to pay teachers with. Ah well! Th' Almighty, He knows! The new teacher's real spry, ain' he?"
"Flea Grigsby!" called Bea, over her shoulder. "Come right along, or I'll tell ma when I go home."
Flea noticed her as little as she noticed Mrs. Fogg's remark on the new teacher's spryness. She had an idea, and was in a hurry to air it. "Major Duncombe!" she repeated. "Could he let the children in free if he liked?"
"Cert'nly, honey! He has the fus' word in all the county. Nobody dar' say his soul's his own 'less he lets 'em. 'Lord! how long? how long?'"
"I am very well acquainted with Major Duncombe," rushed on Flea, with an important air. "And you may be sure, Mrs. Fogg, that I'll speak to him about your grandchildren. Good-morning!"