I'm going to see the Cayugas beat
the Wanderers, that's all; an' Abe Mackinnon's mother
said he could ask me to come back to tea with them. Can
I, Mother?"
"There's no objection that I know of," said Mrs Murchison,
shaking her apron free of stray potato-parings, "but you
won't get money for the lacrosse match or anything else
from your father today, _I_ can assure you. They didn't
do five dollars worth of business at the store all day
yesterday, and he's as cross as two sticks."
"Oh, that's all right." Lorne jingled his pocket and
Oliver took a fascinated step toward him. "I made thirty
cents this morning, delivering papers for Fisher. His
boy's sick. I did the North Ward--took me over'n hour.
Guess I can go all right, can't I?"
"Why, yes, I suppose you can," said his mother. The others
were dumb. Oliver hunched his shoulders and kicked at
the nearest thing that had paint on it. Abby clung to
the pump handle and sobbed aloud. Lorne looked gloomily
about him and went out. Making once more for the back
fence, he encountered Alexander in the recognized family
retreat. "Oh, my goodness!" he said, and stopped. In a
very few minutes he was back in the kitchen, followed
sheepishly by Alexander, whose grimy face expressed the
hope that beat behind his little waistcoat.
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