"Nothin'," said the boy doggedly, with his eyes still fixed on the pane.

"Has--has--Mrs. Tripp" (the fair proprietress) "been unkind?" he went on
lightly.

No reply.

"You know, Rupe," continued Mr. Ford demurely, "she must show SOME
reserve before company--like to-day. It won't do to make a scandal."

Rupert maintained an indignant silence. But the dimple (which he usually
despised as a feminine blot) on the cheek nearer the master became
slightly accented. Only for a moment; the dark eyes clouded again.

"I wish I was dead, Mr. Ford."

"Hallo!"

"Or--doin' suthin'."

"That's better. What do you want to do?"

"To work--make a livin' myself. Quit toten' wood and water at home; quit
cookin' and makin' beds, like a yaller Chinaman; quit nussin' babies and
dressin' 'em and undressin' 'em, like a girl. Look at HIM now," pointing
to the sweetly unconscious Johnny, "look at him there. Do you know what
that means? It means I've got to pack him home through the town jist ez
he is thar, and then make a fire and bile his food for him, and wash
him and undress him and put him to bed, and 'Now I lay me down to sleep'