Durgin。She’sdoneherpart，andshe’shadmorethanhershareofhardknocks。Ifshewastough，tosta’twith，she’shadblowsenoughtomellerher。Butthat’sthewayIaccountfortheboy。Is’pose——I’doughtn’ttofeelthewayIdoabouthim，buthe’ssuchapesttothewholeneighborhoodthathe’dhavethemostpop’la’fune’l。Well，IguessI’vesaidenough。I’mmuchobligedtoyou，though，Mr。——\"
\"Westover，\"thepaintersuggested。\"Buttheboyisn’tsobadallthetime。\"
\"Couldn’tbe，\"saidWhitwell，withacackleofhumorousenjoyment。
\"Hehashisspellsofbein’decent，andhe’spoottysmart，too。Butwhentheotherspellketcheshimit’slikeasifthedevilgota—holdofhim，asIsaidinthefirstplace。Ilostmywifeheretwo—threeyearsalongback，andthatlittlegirlyouseehimtormentin’，she’saregularlittlemothertoherbrother；andwheneverJeffDurginseesherwithhim，seemsasiftheOldScratchgotintohim。Well，I’mgladIdidn’tcomeacrosshimthatday。Howyougittin’alongwithLion’sHead？Setsquietenoughforyou？\"Whitwellrosefromthestumpandbrushedtheclingingchipsfromhisthighs。\"Folkstroubleyouany，lookin’on？\"
\"Notyet，\"saidWestover。