These houses were always repaired and painted at the same time
every year.
Nearest to the boiling pot--indeed, with his red head almost in
the hot steam--was the little boy Brother and Sister had noticed
walking on Miss Putnam's picket fence. A puddle of tar had
splashed over on the ground and the red-headed boy was stirring it
with a stick held between his bare toes.
"Now don't hang around here all day," said one of the workmen,
kindly enough. "Run away before you get burned. Hey, there, Red!
Do you want to blister your foot?"
The red-haired lad grinned mischievously.
"I'd hate to spoil my shoes," he jeered, "but you watch and I'll
kick over your old pot! I can, just as easy."
The other children drew nearer, half-believing the boy would tip
over the pot of boiling tar.
"Here," said another and younger workman, "if we give each of you
a little on a stick will you promise to go off and leave us in
peace?"
There was an eager chorus of promises, and the good-natured young
roofer actually stuck a little ball of the soft tar on each stick
thrust at him and watched the small army of boys and girls march
up the street, smiling.
"That Mickey Gaffney thinks he's smart," said Nellie Yarrow, who
had found Brother and Sister in the crowd, as the red-headed boy
dashed past them, waving his stick of tar wildly and shouting like
an Indian.
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