"You're nothing but a girl!" The runaway flashed him a hostile glance.
"Don't be silly! What difference does it make?
Haven't I a cruel stepmother that is constantly making scenes if I do the least little thing, especially since Miss Murtree went home because her mother has typhoid in Buffalo.

You wait till I get the right clothes." "Does she beat you something awful ?" demanded the Merle twin unctuously.
The victim hesitated.
"Well, you might call it that." "What kind of right clothes ?" asked his brother.
"Boy's clothes; filthy rags of boy's clothes--like yours," she concluded.

Her appraising glance rested on the garments of the questioning twin.

Both became conscious of their mean attire, and squirmed uneasily.
"These are just everyday clothes," muttered the Wilbur twin.
"We have fine new Sunday suits at home," boasted Merle.

"Too fine to wear every day.