One or
two of the gentlemen turned aside with a laugh.
"What, you little beggar!" Mrs. Chatterton said it between her teeth,
furious at the amusement of her friends, but Joel heard.
"I'm not a beggar," he declared hotly, and squaring his shoulders. By this
time he forgot all about the mail bag. "And you haven't any right to say
so"--with flashing eyes.
Mrs. Chatterton, now seeing him worked up, recovered herself and smiled
sweetly. She leaned back in her garden chair and swung her parasol daintily
back and forth.
"Oh, yes, you are," she declared; "we all know it, so there is no use in
your denying it. Well, you get us some ices and be quick about it." She
dismissed him with a wave of her beautiful arm, in its flowing, lace
drapery.
But Joel did not budge.
"You don't know it." He swept the whole group with his black eyes. "It
isn't as she says, is it?"
"No," said one of the gentlemen who had laughed, whirling around to bring a
very sharp pair of eyes on Joel's face, "it isn't, my boy."
"Well, I must say," protested Mrs. Chatterton, an angry light coming into
her cold eyes, and turning around on him sharply, "that this isn't very
friendly in you, Mr. Vandeusen, to pit that upstart boy against me. Now
there will be no managing him hereafter."
"Well, but, Mrs. Chatterton," broke in one of the other gentlemen, in a
propitiatory voice, and leaning over her chair, Mr.
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