Myrtella's mouth closed like a trap. "I'll hiccough him!" she breathed
mysteriously, and leaving the children to watch the candy, she went
out on the porch and closed the door behind her.
Bertie, in his short kilts, with his feet curled up in a chair,
watched Chick with absorbed interest as he donned his ragged, dirty
trousers. A pair of purple suspenders that had once belonged to Mr.
Flathers, excited his special admiration.
"Say, Chick, have you got a partner?"
Chick nodded.
"You couldn't be partners with me, too, could you?"
A violent shake of the head.
"I didn't think you could with two fellows at once." Bertie
contemplated the boiling candy thoughtfully. "I could get lots of
partners if I wasn't always sick. If you ever don't have the one you
have got, could you take me, Chick?"
Chick looked him over critically, stood him up and measured heights
and even felt his arm for muscle. Then he made a remark that while
lacking lucidity was nevertheless conclusive.
"But I'm going to get bigger," urged Bertie.
"And I've got a music box, and a water pistol, and some marbles--"
At this Chick promptly produced a handful of marbles from his own
pocket, and signified, by many whispers and hisses, that he was
engaged in a wholesale and retail trade along that line, and open to
negotiations.
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