He saw his eldest sister, with the tea
towel in her hands, chatting happily with Mrs. Jones. The spectacle
filled him with rage. He felt that the other children had deserted
him, and that, in the war against the new baby, they had left him to
fight unaided. He met a little brother, who greeted him with,--
[Illustration: _An irregular circumference that touched his ears and
his chin and his hair_.]
"Uh-hu, Mr. Jimmy, you just wait till pa gets you!"
A prolonged and scornful "Aw!" was Jimmy's reply to this welcome. On
the step of the back porch, his favorite little sister sat playing
with the house-cat. She toddled to Jimmy; he let her take his finger,
and they went into the kitchen.
"Oh, Jimmy!--where--you--been?" demanded the eldest sister. "Mamma's
been asking for you all day. I'd be ashamed if I was you."
The boy did not deign to speak to Mrs. Jones, and kept his back to her
when he could. He did not answer his sister's question.
"Got anything here fit to eat?" he asked, as he threw open the
cupboard doors. The insult to Mrs. Jones was not accidental. Jimmy
supposed that she had cooked the supper. He put two or three plates of
food on the table, and drew up a chair, sneering bumptiously, "What's
this?" as he dived into each dish.
[Illustration: "_Got anything here fit to eat_?"]
His sister's "Why, Jimmy!" and her warning frowns did not change his
course. Mrs. Jones went to the front of the house, diplomatically
leaving all the doors open behind her, that Mrs.
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