"I can have first pick, can't I, Paul ?" "Be nice with 'em," he said, and went away.
"You ARE a dear," the girls cried.
"Tenpence," he answered.
He went past Clara without speaking.

She felt the three chocolate creams would burn her if she touched them.

It needed all her courage to slip them into the pocket of her apron.
The girls loved him and were afraid of him.

He was so nice while he was nice, but if he were offended, so distant, treating them as if they scarcely existed, or not more than the bobbins of thread.

And then, if they were impudent, he said quietly: "Do you mind going on with your work," and stood and watched.
When he celebrated his twenty-third birthday, the house was in trouble.
Arthur was just going to be married.