fact, to any boy, Margery knew with
no possibility of doubt that Willie Jones would pay up at once. Among
his own kind, he passed for a fellow that was honest and square, but for
some reason, some utterly illogical but nevertheless generally accepted
reason, just because she was a female creature, in dealing with her he
felt at liberty to cast aside that code of conduct by which ordinarily
he acted. And--if the outrage needed a climax--the rest of mankind,
should they hear of Willie Jones's behavior, instead of turning from him
with the cold shoulder of disapproval, would merely laugh amusedly. Oh,
think of it! The injustice of things! The rank, the black injustice!
Margery turned wild eyes to heaven to register her dumb but not for that
reason any less vehement protest.

Willie, meantime, munched calmly on. As the moments passed, he ate more
slowly. Naturally. The cakes he had so carefully selected were not
hollow inside, but as solid as they looked, and consequently somewhat
dry and crumbly. Dryness and crumbliness induce thirst, and thirst, as
every one knows, is one of the first things to eat up a man's wealth.
Willie Jones swallowed hard, and inquired:

"Would you like a glass of milk, Margery?"

"Would I like a glass of milk!" Margery's tone seemed to add: On my own
money, I suppose you mean! Aloud she concluded: "I should say not! I can
get milk at home."

Willie got up and went over to the counter.

"How much is your milk a glass?"

"Three cents," the German lady said.

Willie sighed, and turned sadly away. The German lady called him back.

"By rights it's three cents, but I'll give it to you for two."

Margery heard distinctly. Two cents for cakes, two cents for milk. Good!
That left him one cent of his own money.

Willie Jones leisurely finished the last crumb of cake and drained his
glass.

"Well, so long, Margery. I guess I better be going. I got to see a fella
down in East Maplewood."

"Give me my nickel, Willie, or I'll have to go with you. I told you I
would."

"Well, of course, Margery, you can come down to East Maplewood if you
want to. But it's pretty far." He spoke as though the possible fatigue
to Margery really concerned him.

Margery straightened her lips, and fell into step. She told herself
that she was getting mad. The state of her feelings, however, seemed to
have no effect upon her companion. He continued exasperatingly bland and
friendly. At street crossings he warned her of