She did mind that and shook an obdurate head; she did not like her fathers hard, dry, imperative kisses, and endured them only for the sake of power. Sometimes Emma touched her cheek lightly with unparted lips. Lizzie would allow no more. The man sighed when she shook her head, took her hand away from the crotch, softly folded it up on its fingers and gave her hand ceremoniously back to her.

"Gratuity," he said, felt in his pocket and nipped her a nickel. Then he straightened up and walked away. Lizzie put the coin in her pinafore pocket and, after a moments thought, stumped off after the funny man along the still, secret edges of the field, curious as to what he might do next.

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