part or the pants part that made Mitch
a bad little boy. All David knew about it was that if he invited
Mitch into the yard to climb trees and give swimming lessons in
the high grass, it usually happened that Mother could think of
some important business for her little boy to do in the house. It
was surprising how many important matters there were for David to
do in the house every time Mitch came into the yard to play. She
might want to show him something, and perhaps it would be a
turn-over that she wanted to show him, a delicious little
half-grown pie stuffed with strawberries or with cherries.

If Mitch were waiting out under the trees, the toothsome bit of
pastry was always a very peculiar kind. Mother believed in
generosity, but generosity with limitations. Strawberry turn-over
was not good for Mitch. Mother was positive that it was not good
for him. That seemed a little singular to David, for he had never
noticed anything wrong with Mitch. It does not seem credible that
a boy who owns a real Indian bow 'n' arrow, which shoots so high
he can knock the eye out of an angel with it, should yet be so
foolish as to have a bad stomach.

David had never seen any of the one-eyed angels that Mitch had
knocked down out of heaven with his Indian bow 'n' arrow. Mitch
was not the kind to show all of his treasures. He didn't even
show his bow 'n' arrow. He kept it hid, so that if the police
ever found out about it they could not get it away from him. If
they wanted to arrest him for having it, that would be all
right, but they should not get hold of his Indian bow 'n' arrow.

The thing you liked about Mitch was that he was so reasonable.
One's faith in him would never be shaken unless one were to try
his recipe for getting trouvers. In theory it was a sound recipe.
Mitch, who had reached trouvers and understood the mightiness of
the achievement, could vouch for the sure result of his
prescription. It was guaranteed to cure the dress-habit in seven
days. At first, though, Mitch would not tell how the great honor
of pants had been bestowed upon him. He was then too important
even to say, "Hello, kid!" For a time he did not deign to notice
anybody, and when he did notice anybody it was only to pretend
that David was nothing but a little girl.

"I am not, neither."

David filed his protest between the palings of the fence. But it
was no use. He might protest, he might cross his heart and hope
to die, but still the boy on th