“She wanted to bully me!  She’s been at it ever since I come here,—­she and t’ other one.  I made ’em stop it wonst, an’ I’ll make ’em ag’in.  I can stan’ a good deal, but I ain’t a-goin’ to stan’ bein’ called a thief, I ain’t.  I ain’t no more a thief ’n they be, if I do live down Cove way, and don’t wear quite so good clo’es as they does. Hooked it!” going a step nearer to the two girls.  “I wish we was boys.  I’d—­I’d lick yer, I would, the minit I got yer out on the street; but,” with a disgusted sigh, “I’m a girl, and I carn’t.  ’Tain’t ’spectable for girls, Tim says, an’ I mus’n’t.  But lemme jes’ hear any more sech talk, an’—­I’ll forgit I’m a girl for ’bout five minutes!”

This conclusion was too much for Lizzie’s gravity, and she burst into one of her infectious laughs.  Several of the others joined in, and then Becky herself gave a sudden little grin.

Lotty Riker and her sister, who had been thoroughly frightened, felt immensely relieved at this, and for the moment everything seemed the same as before the outbreak; but it was only seeming.  The majority of the company, without taking into consideration the provocation Becky had received, thought to themselves:  “What a temper!” Becky’s wild little threats, and the way she expressed herself, had made a strong impression; and when presently Lizzie laughingly asked, “Who’s Tim, Becky?” and Becky had answered in that lawless manner of hers:  “Oh, he’s a fren’ o’ mine,—­a great big fightin’ gentleman what lives in the house where we do,” there was a general exchange of glances, and a general conviction that the Riker girls had not been altogether wrong in some of their statements.  And when the next day they heard Miss Becky confide to Lizzie that she had made “a splendid basket,” and was going to hang it for Tim on that “fust pleasant day of May,” they whispered to each other, “A May-basket for a prize-fighter!”

But they took very good care that the whisper did not reach Becky.  She was “great fun,” but they had found out how fiercely she could turn from her fun.

CHAPTER III.

The first day of May turned out to be a most beautiful day, bright and sunny; and when Lizzie hung her pretty basket filled with Plymouth Mayflowers on the door-knob of a great friend of hers, she laughed, and wondered if Becky had hung hers for that “fightin’ gen’leman, Tim.”  She would ask Becky the minute she got to the store.  But the minute she got to the store she had a customer to wait upon, and had no time to bestow on Becky until she needed her service.  Then she called “Number Five;” but, instead of “Number Five,” Lotty Riker responded.

“Where’s Becky?” asked Lizzie.

“I dunno.  She hain’t come in; mebbe she’s hangin’ that May-basket for the prize-fighter,” giggled Lotty.

Business was very brisk that day, and Lizzie had no leisure for anything else.  But at noon, when she was going out to her lunch, it occurred to her that Becky had not yet appeared.  Where could she be?  She had always been punctual to a minute.