"Look!" he called out, with amusement at his plight. He had run into some burdock, and the nettles had stuck to his yarn stockings like stinging bees--a cluster of them about his knees and calves. He drew off his gloves, showing the strong, overgrown hands of boyhood: they, like his voice, seemed impatiently reaching out for maturity. When he overtook his companion, who had not stopped, he had transferred a few of the burrs to his skull cap. He had done this with crude artistry--from some faint surviving impulse of primitive man to decorate his body with things around him in nature: especially his head (possibly he foresaw that his head would be most struck at). The lad was pleased with his caper; and, smiling, thrust his head across her path, expecting her to take sympathetic notice. He had reason to expect this, because on dull rainy days at home he often amused her with the things he did and the things he made: for he was a natural carpenter and toy-maker. But now she took only the contemptuous notice of disapproval. This morning her mind was intent on playthings of positive value: she was a little travelling ten-toed pagoda of holiday greed. Every Christmas she prepared for its celebration with a balancing eye to what it would cost her and what it would bring in: she always calculated to receive more than she gave: for Elsie, the Nativity must be made _to pay_! He resented her refusal to approve his playfulness by so much as a smile, and he came back at her by doing worse:-- "Why didn't I think to bring all the burrs along and make a Christmas basket for Elizabeth? Now what will I give her?" This drew out a caustic comment quickly enough:-- "Poor Elizabeth!" A child resents injustice with a blow or rage or tears: the old have learned to endure without a sign--waiting for God's day of judgment (or their first good opportunity!). He was furious at the way she said "Poor Elizabeth"--as though Elizabeth's hands would be empty of gifts from him. "You _know_ I have _bought_ my presents for Elizabeth, Elsie!" he exclaimed. "But Elizabeth thinks more of what I _make_ than of what I _buy_," he continued hotly. "And the less it is worth, the more she values it. But you can't understand _that_, Elsie! And you needn't try!" The little minx laughed with triumph that she had incensed him. "I don't expect to try!" she retorted blithely. "I don't see that I'd gain anything, if I _did_ understand. You and Elizabeth are a great deal too--" He interrupted overbearingly:-- "Leave Elizabeth out! Confine your remarks to me!" "My remarks will be wholly unconfined," said Elsie, as she trotted forward. He scrambled alongside in silent rage. Perhaps he was thinking of his inability to reach protected female license. He may obscurely have felt that life's department of justice was being balked at the moment by its department of natural history--a not uncommon interference in this too crowded world. At least he put himself on record about it:--