Ford, be it said, had announced his intention deliberately, moved by a vague, unreasoning impulse.
"Can I go ?" teased Buddy, from sheer force of habit; no one ever mentioned going anywhere, but Buddy shot that question into the conversation.
"No, you can't.

You can't, with that cold," his mother vetoed promptly, and Buddy, whimpering over his hot cakes, knew well the futility of argument, when Mrs.Kate used that tone of finality.
"Will you let me go ?" Josephine asked unexpectedly, and looked straight at Ford.

But though her glance was direct, it was unreadable, and Ford mentally threw up his hands after one good look at her, and tried not to betray the fact that this was what he had wanted, but had not hoped for.
"Sure, you can go," he said, with deceitful brevity.

Josephine had not spoken to him all the day before, except to say good-morning when he came in to his breakfast.

Ford made no attempt to understand her, any more.