"I'd rather not. Unless it will make you forget the dirt you ate." But the permission given, the child became indifferent to it. He pointed to three other lads crouching against the door-step, and explained: "They're One, Two, and Three. My father, he says it saves trouble. Some folks laugh at us. They say it's funny to be named that way. I was eating the dirt because I was--I was mad." "Indeed! At whom?" "At everybody. I'm just mis'able. I don't care to live no longer." The round, dimpled face was so exceedingly wholesome and happy, despite its transient dolefulness, that Kitty laughed and her merriment brought an answering smile to the four dusty countenances before her. "Wull--wull--I is. My father, he's mis'able, too. So, course, we have to be. He's a minister man. He can't tell stories. He just tells true ones out the Bible. Can you tell Bible stories?" "No. I--I'm afraid I don't know much about that book. Mercy had one, but she kept it in the drawer. She took it out on Sundays, though. She didn't let Gaspar nor me touch it. She said we might spoil the cover. That was red. It was a reward of merit when she was a girl. It had clasps, and was very beautiful. It had pictures in it, too, about saints and dead folks; but I never read it. I couldn't read it if I tried, you know, because I've never been taught." This was amazing to the four book-crammed small Littlejohns. One exclaimed, with superior disgust: "Such a great big girl, and can't read your Bible! You must be a heathen, and bow down to wood and stone." "Maybe I am. I don't remember bowing down to anything, except when I say my prayers." "Your prayers! Then you can't be a real heathen. Heathens don't say prayers, not our kind. Hmm. What lovely eyes you've got and how pretty you are! All the women never saw such wonderful hair as yours, nor the men either. I heard them say so. If I had a sister, I'd like her to look just like you. But it's wicked to be vain." "What do you mean, you funny boy?" "I'm not funny. I'm serious. My mother--my mother said--my mother--Oh! I want her! I want her!" Religion, superiority, priggishness, all flew to the winds as his real and fresh grief overcame him; and it was a heart-broken lad that hurled himself against the shoulder of this sympathetic-looking girl who, though so much taller, was not so very much older than he. The Sun Maid's own heart echoed the cry with a keen pain, and she received the orphan's outburst with exceeding tenderness. Now, whatever One, the eldest, did the other young numerals all imitated, so that each was soon weeping copiously. Yet, from very excess of energy, their grief soon exhausted itself and they regarded each other with some curiosity. Then Three began to smile, in a shamefaced sort of way, not knowing how far his recovery of composure would be approved by sterner One.