"Ah, mamma, can't I just finish this bracket?"
"No, dear. All your Saturday evening's work is to be done yet."
It was hard, Johnny thought. A half-hour more would finish the beautiful deer bracket; the scroll-saw still had the charm of novelty, and the delicate pattern was a most attractive one. Johnny worked away harder than ever (a way he had of delaying obedience), and was beginning to hope he might yet complete his work, when a bright-faced little colored girl came in. She tied on an apron, and began beating eggs into a foam, adding a new clatter to the din made by Johnny's saw.
"Stop. Johnny, stop, I say!" and Johnny began moving his darling machine back into its corner with rather an ill grace. "Well, Phrony Jane, have you had a pleasant time?"
"Yes, 'm, splendid. Miss Lawton she's a-gwine to do lots o' nice things this summer—gwine to hev a lawn party next week out to her uncle's in the country for we uns."
"Who's we uns?" asked Johnny, teasingly.
"Why, her class—all o' we uns."
"Can't I go, then?"
"No," said Phrony Jane, a little disdainfully; "Miss Lawton don't approve o' boys, I guess. Ain't got a single one in her class."
"Couldn't get one," retorted Johnny, going out.