“Well,” said the boy, delightedly, “I can tell you just what to do, you know.”

“What, I’d like to know?” Madame Griggs said, in a snapping tone.

“Move away from Banbridge,” said the boy.

“What for, I’d like to know?”

“Why, then, don’t you see,” explained Eddy Carroll, “you would get away from the folks that you owe, and other folks that you didn’t owe would trust you for things.  You’d get along fine.  That’s the way we always do.”

“Well, I never!” said Madame Griggs.  Then she turned on him with sudden fury.  “So that’s what your folks are goin’ to do, be they?” said she.  “Go off and leave me without payin’ my bill!  That’s the dodge, is it?”

Eddy was immediately on the alert.  He was young and innocent, but he had a certain sharpness.  He was quite well aware that a knowledge on the part of the creditors of his family’s flittings was not desirable.  “I ’ain’t heard them say a word about moving away from Banbridge,” declared he.  “What you getting so mad about, Missis?”

“I guess I’ve got some reason to be mad, if that’s your folks’ game.  The way I’ve worked, slavin’ all them hot days and nights on your sister’s wedding fix.  I guess—­”

“We ain’t going to move away from Banbridge as long as we live, for all I know,” said Eddy, looking at the bundle of feminine nerves beside him with a mixture of terror and scorn.  “You don’t need to holler so, Missis.”

“I don’t care how loud I holler, I can tell you that.”

“We ain’t going to move; and if we did, I don’t see why you couldn’t.  I was just telling you what you could do, if you owed folks and didn’t have any money to pay ’em, and you turn on a feller that way.  I’m going to tell my sister and mother, and they won’t have you make any more dresses for ’em.”  With that Eddy Carroll made a dart into Anderson’s grocery store, which he had reached by that time.  The dressmaker remained standing on the sidewalk, staring after him.  She looked breathless; red spots were on her thin cheeks.

Eddy went straight through the store to the office.  The door stood open, and the little place was empty except for the cat, which cast a lazy glance at him from under a half-closed lid, stretched, displaying his claws, and began to purr loudly.  Eddy went over to the cat and took him up in his arms and carried him out into the main store, where William Price stood behind the counter.  He was alone in the store.

“Say,” said Eddy, “where’s Mr. Anderson?”

“He’s gone out,” replied the clerk, with a kind look at the boy.  He had lost one of his own years ago, and Eddy, in spite of his innocent superciliousness, appealed to him.

“Where?” asked Eddy.  The cat wriggled in his arms and jumped down.  Then he rolled over ingratiatingly at his feet.  Eddy stooped down and rubbed the shining, furry stomach.

“He took the net he catches butterflies with,” replied the old clerk, “and I guess he’s gone to walk in the fields somewhere.”