It was
in the early morning and Patsey's face bore marks of a
recent and mighty conflict with soap and water. Patsey
looked apprehensively every now and then at his home;
his mother might emerge any minute and insist on his
wearing a coat; his mother could be very tiresome that
way sometimes.
It seemed long this morning to wait for the butcher, but
the only way to be sure of a ride was to be on the spot.
Sometimes there were delays in getting away from home.
Getting on a coat was one; finding a hat was the worst
of all. Since Bugsey got the nail in his foot and could
not go out the hat question was easier. The hat was still
hard to find, but not impossible.
Wilford Ducker came along. Wilford had just had a dose
of electric oil artfully concealed in a cup of tea, and
he felt desperate. His mother had often told him not to
play with any of the Watson boys, they were so rough and
unladylike in their manner. Perhaps that was why Wilford
came over at once to Patsey. Patsey did not care for
Wilford Ducker even if he did live in a big house with
screen doors on it. Mind you, he did not wear braces yet,
only a waist with white buttons on it, and him seven!
Patsey's manner was cold.
"You goin' fer butcher-ride?" Wilford asked.
"Yep," Patsey answered with very little warmth.
"Say, Pat, lemme go," Wilford coaxed.
"Nope," Patsey replied, indifferently.
"Aw, do, Pat, won't cher?"
Mrs. Ducker had been very particular about Wilford's
enunciation.
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