He shot hostile glances at her as--with his cap on her head, her hands deep in the money-laden pockets--she swaggered and swanked before them.
"I'm Ben Blunt--I'm Ben Blunt," she muttered, hoarsely, and swung her shoulders and brandished her thin legs to prove it.
He laughed with scorn.
"Yes, you are!" he gibed.

"Look at your hair! I guess Ben Blunt didn't have long girl's hair, did he--stringy old red hair ?" Her hands flew to her pigtail.
"My hair is not red," she told him.

"It's just a decided blonde." Then she faltered, knowing full well that Ben Blunt's hair was not worn in a braid.

"Of course I'm going to cut it off," she said.

"Haven't you boys got a knife ?" They had a knife.