tual intention, inclined his
head stiffly and looked toward Ross for explanation. He trembled a
little, but it was with delight, as he anticipated the effect of the
speech Ross had outlined. But it did not come.

"I'm not hungry, mother," was the revised edition which the
freckle-faced boy offered to the maternal ear. "I--we are going over
to Mr. Claiborne's--on--er--on an errand for Abner's father."

The black-eyed boy looked reproach as they clattered up the stairs to
Ross's room, where the clean collar was produced and a small stock of
ties.

"You'd wear a necktie--wouldn't you?" Ross asked, spreading them upon
the bureau-top.

"Yes. But make it fall carelessly over your shirt-front," advised the
student of _Hints and Helps_. "Your collar is miles too big for me.
Say! I've got a wad of white chewing-gum; would you flat it out and
stick it over the collar button? Maybe that would fill up some. You
kick my foot if you see me turning my head so's to knock it off."

"Better button up your vest," cautioned Ross, laboring with the
"careless" fall of his tie.

"Huh-uh! I want 'that easy air which presupposes familiarity with
society'--that's what it says in my book," objected Abner.

"Sure!" Ross returned to his more familiar jeering attitude. "Loosen
up all your clothes, then. Why don't you untie your shoes? Flop a sock
down over one of 'em--that looks 'easy' all right."

Abner buttoned his vest. "It gives a man lots of confidence to know
he's good-looking," he remarked, taking all the room in front of the
mirror.

Ross, at the wash-stand soaking his hair to get the curl out of it,
grumbled some unintelligible response. The two boys went down the
stairs with tremulous hearts.

"Why, you've put on another clean shirt, Rossie!" Mrs. Pryor called
from her chair--mothers' eyes can see so far! "Well--don't get into
any dirty play and soil it." The boys walked in silence--but it was a
pregnant silence; for as the roof of the Claiborne house began to peer
above the crest of the hill, Ross plumped down on a stone and
announced, "I ain't goin'."

"Come on," urged the black-eyed boy. "It'll be fun--and everybody will
respect us more. Champe won't throw rocks at us in recess-time, after
we've called on her. She couldn't."

"Called!" grunted Ross. "I couldn't make a call any more than a cow.
What'd I say? What'd I do? I can behave all right when you just go to
people's houses--but a call!"

Abner hesitated. Should he