Smith was not so lacking in
perception that she failed to understand how completely--for the time
being, at least--calling was suspended.

The boy whistled briskly, "My country, 'tis of thee," and though his
knowledge of the air failed him when he finished the second line, he
was not disheartened, but began at the beginning again, continuing
repeatedly after this fashion to offset monotony by patriotism. He
whistled loudly; he walked with ostentatious intent to be at some heavy
affair in the distance; his ears were red. He looked neither to the
right nor to the left.

That is, he looked neither to the right nor to the left until he had
passed the Baxters' fence. But when he had gone as far as the upper
corner of the fence beyond, he turned his head and looked back, without
any expression--except that of a whistler--at Jane. And thus, still
whistling "My country, 'tis of thee," and with blank pink face over his
shoulder, he proceeded until he was out of sight.

"Who was that boy?" the new neighbor then inquired.

"It's Freddie," said Jane, placidly. "He's in our Sunday-school. He's in
love of me."

"JANE!"

Again the outraged and ink-stained countenance glared down from the
window.

"What you want?" Jane asked.

"What you MEAN talking about such things?" William demanded. "In all my
life I never heard anything as disgusting! Shame on you!"

The little girl from across the street looked upward thoughtfully. "He's
mad," she remarked, and, regardless of Jane's previous information, "It
IS your papa, isn't it?" she insisted.

"No!" said Jane, testily. "I told you five times it's my brother
Willie."

"Oh!" said the little girl, and, grasping the fact that William's
position was, in dignity and authority, negligible, compared with that
which she had persisted in imagining, she felt it safe to tint her
upward gaze with disfavor. "He acts kind of crazy," she murmured.

"He's in love of Miss Pratt," said Jane. "She's goin' away to-day. She
said she'd go before, but to-day she IS! Mr. Parcher, where she visits,
he's almost dead, she's stayed so long. She's awful, I think."

William, to whom all was audible, shouted, hoarsely, "I'll see to YOU!"
and disappeared from the window.

"Will he come down here?" the little girl asked, taking a step toward
the gate.

"No. He's just gone to call mamma. All she'll do' ll be to tell us to go
play somewheres else. Then we can go talk to Genesis."

"Who?"

"Genesis. He's