“Well,” Thurley Precore answered with spirit equal to Dan’s, “you think you’re smart, because your pa has money, but there’s lots of people smarter than your pa, and I think, if a man has to choose between knowing how to spell and everything and having a little money, he better choose learning. Because he’ll be smart enough to think up a way to take money from the man that don’t know anything. Wait and see. You better go to school while you got the chance and learn—you’ll need it some day. My goodness, I wisht we’d ever stop in one place long enough to let me go to school. I have to just grab for all I know. The longest we stay anywheres is winters—out in Iowa—and an old hoss thief, Aggie Tim, traveled with us for awhile and he taught me my tables and lightnin’ calculating. I bet you don’t know any—I bet I know more’n you do—” “I bet you don’t,” Dan retorted. “Name the presidents of the United States,” pointing an accusing finger at him. “McKinley—but he’s shot and we got Roosevelt,” Daniel bragged. “I mean from the start of this country—Washington—” “Oh, sure, everybody knows about him, he never told a lie—like fun he didn’t—we don’t have school on his birthday. But I never have to go to school, if I don’t want to. I can stay in bed until nine o’clock and have pork sausage and griddle cakes and coffee sent up to my room. I can make Mrs. Hawkins send ’em up, even if she puts it on the bill—my father lets me and he gives me a dollar at a time and lets me spend it as I like. Sometimes he gives me beer to drink, and he takes me to cities on convention trips—he belongs to lodges and he gets himself made delegate—you ought to see the hotels we stay at with music playing for all the meals. I get a new suit and a whole lot of stuff to play with and so much candy that I have to stay in bed and just holler with the stomach-ache—there!” He paused with a characteristic Birge tilt of the head. Thurley’s eyes were serious as she answered, “I’m sorry for you. When you’re a man and have a little boy, I hope you’ll bring him up better than you have been brought up. You’ll go to jail, if you keep on acting so wicked.” “Jail? Why, my pa knows the sheriff an’ everybody. I guess he knows the president.” “If he knows so many people and is so smart, why don’t he live some place besides this funny town?” Thurley demanded. This stumped Dan for a moment, then he answered, “His property is here and he can do what he’s a mind to. If he moved to a city, he’d have to get acquainted with all the police and everything—see?” “I don’t like that. I guess you better not introduce me to your father; I wouldn’t approve of him. I won’t live in a little town. I want to be famous and have every one know me, when I drive through the streets, and have people throw flowers at me, when I sing. I want to do something wonderful—and good!” she ended emphatically. “What could you do?” sneered Dan.