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 silent, Wilkins studying the problem of the boy, Angus in dumb admiration of his finery. As they passed Ramsay’s drug store a boy and girl came out boisterously, almost colliding with them. The little girl spoke to Wilkins; the boy stared curiously and with hostility at Angus—who stared openly and unconsciously at the girl. She threw back her head and wrinkled her nose. As Dave and Angus went on they heard her say to her companion: “That boy hasn’t any manners. He don’t know anything. He don’t know enough to tip his hat to a lady.”

Dave looked down at Angus quizzically. The boy was red with embarrassment.

“You mustn’t mind her,” said Dave. “She’s spoiled, Lydia Canfield is. Lives with her grandparents…. The kid’s the son of your friend Crane. I don’t cotton to him more’n I do to his dad.”

At the next corner they met Mary Trueman, the pastor’s daughter, and paused, for Mary and Dave were friends of standing.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilkins,” she said, and glanced down at Angus with a smile and a nod.

“I’m so glad the trial turned out as it did, aren’t you? I was so sorry for that poor little fellow. Where is he? What’s to become of him?”

“Allow me,” said Dave, “to present Mr. Angus Burke.”