"Why, goodness me, child!" cried the astonished Nan, "what did you do
that for? Did he do anything to you?"
"Nope. Never seen him before," admitted Inez. "But I pitch into all the
boys I see that I'm sure I can whip. Then they let me alone. They think
I'm tough. These boys wouldn't let a girl sell a flower, nor a newspaper,
nor nothin', if they could help it. We girls got ter fight 'em."
"The beginning of suffragism," groaned Nan.
"I never heard of such a thing!" Bess cried. "Fighting the boys--how
disgraceful!"
Inez stared at her. "Hi!" she finally exclaimed, "you wouldn't make much
if you didn't fight, I can tell ye. When I see a boy with a basket of
posies, I pull it away from him and tear 'em up. Boys ain't got no
business selling posies around here. That's a girl's job, and I'm goin'
to show 'em, I am!"
Nan and Bess listened to this with mingled emotions. It was laughable,
yet pitiful. Little boys and girls fighting like savages for a bare
existence. The chums were silent the rest of the way to the old brick
house--just a "slice" out of a three-story-and-basement row of such
houses, which Inez announced to be "Mother Beasley's."
"Sometimes she's got her beds all full and you hafter wait for lodgin's.
Mebbe she'll let you camp in her room, or in one of the halls up-stairs.
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