"You're too big to cry," observed Bernard dispassionately, munching a
green apple he had taken from his pocket. "You're as big as I am, and I
haven't cried since I was six years old. Eugie cries."

"I don't!" protested Eugenia vehemently. "I reckon you'd cry too if they
made you sit in the house the whole afternoon and hem cup-towels."

"I'm a boy, Miss Spitfire. Boys don't sew. I saw Nick Burr milking,
though, one day. What made you milk, Nick?"

"Ma did."

"I'd like to see anybody make me milk. You're jes' the same as a girl."

"I ain't!"

"You are!"

"I ain't!"

"'Spose you fight it out," suggested Eugenia, with an eye for sport,
settling herself upon the ground with Jim in her lap.

Nicholas picked up his fishing line and wound it slowly round the cork.
"There's a powerful lot of minnows in this creek," he remarked amicably.
"When you lean over that log you can catch 'em in your hat."

"Let's do it," said Eugenia, starting up, and they went out upon the
slippery log between the reedy banks. Over the smooth, pebbly bed of
the stream flashed the shining bodies of hundreds of minnows, passing