He ought to have his nose twisted, and it's me, a
good church member, as says so."
The lad picked up his axe and resumed his occupation, while Mrs.
Cahill turned up a chunk of wood and sat down on it, keeping up a
running fire of comment, mostly directed at Abner Adams, and
which must have made his ears burn.
Shortly after eight o'clock Phil gathered his books, strapped
them and announced that he would be off for school.
"I'll finish the woodpile after school," he called back, as he
was leaving the gate.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," retorted the Widow Cahill.
Darting out of the yard, Phil ran plump into someone, and halted
sharply with an earnest apology.
"Seems to me you're in a terrible rush about something. Where you
going?"
"Hello, Teddy, that you?"
"It's me," answered Teddy ungrammatically.
"I'm on my way to school."
"Never could understand why anybody should want to run when he's
going to school. Now, I always run when I start off after
school's out. What you doing here?" demanded the boy, drawing
his eyelids down into a squint.
"I've been chopping some wood for Mrs. Cahill."
"Huh! What's the matter with the bear this morning?"
"The bear?"
Teddy jerked a significant thumb in the direction of Phil's
former home.
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