"Why? Because they used to be the richest farmers about here. They owned
pretty nigh all Lime Ridge once. Now they hain't got nothin' but that
little Ridge farm. It's a stony little place, and how they manage to get
a livin' off of it beats me."

"How'd they happen to lose so much?"

"Oh, the boy's father took to spekerlatin', and then some banks they had
money in bust up."

"Well, he needn't fly up at everything because he isn't rich," said
Elsie. "That's regular cry-baby fashion. He's a royal purple cry-baby,
that's what he is, and I mean to call him that, see if I don't;" and
Elsie laughed in high glee as this mischievous idea struck her. And
while she and her sister were discussing Royal and his temper, Royal was
discussing that very temper with himself.

"To think of my being such a fool as to show mad before those girls. I'm
a regular sissy," was his final conclusion as he drove down the road.

The next morning, bright and early, he was up at the Lloyds' with two
dozen fine big eggs. "As handsome a lot of eggs as I ever see,"
commented Rhoda, as she took them in.

"Are they going to color them all?" asked Royal.

"I s'pose so. Here are some of their old ones. They've been b'iled as
hard as stones. They'll keep forever;" and Rhoda handed out of the open
window a little basket of colored eggs.