And fled, followed by the hateful chant.
She came in at the back door, trying to look casual. But
Mattie's keen eye detected the marks of battle, even while
her knife turned the frying potatoes.
"Fanny Brandeis! Look at your sweater! And your hair!"
Fanny glanced down at the torn pocket dangling untidily.
"Oh, that!" she said airily. And, passing the kitchen
table, deftly filched a slice of cold veal from the platter,
and mounted the back stairs to her room. It was a hungry
business, this fighting. When Mrs. Brandeis came in at six
her small daughter was demurely reading. At supper time
Mrs. Brandeis looked up at her daughter with a sharp
exclamation.
"Fanny! There's a scratch on your cheek from your eye to
your chin."
Fanny put up her hand. "Is there?"
"Why, you must have felt it. How did you get it?"
Fanny said nothing. "I'll bet she was fighting," said
Theodore with the intuitive knowledge that one child has of
another's ways.
"Fanny!" The keen brown eyes were upon her.
"Some boys were picking on Clarence Heyl, and it made me
mad.
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