But I suppose now you'll be growing up into quite a common boy." Taffy decided to say nothing about the collar.

"I like the clothes," he declared defiantly.
"Then you can't have the common instincts of a gentleman.

Well, good-bye! Grandfather has salvation all right this time; he said he'd put the stick about me if I dared to speak to you." "He won't know." "Won't know?
Why I shall tell him, of course, when I get back." "But--but he _mustn't_ beat you!" She eyed him for a moment or two in silence.

"Mustn't he?
I advise you to go and tell him." She walked away slowly, whistling; but by-and-by broke into a run and was gone, the puppy scampering behind her.
As the days grew longer and the weather milder, Taffy and his father worked late into the evenings; sometimes, if the job needed to be finished, by the light of a couple of candles.
One evening, about nine o'clock, the boy as he planed a bench paused suddenly.

"What's that ?" They listened.