"Well, I thanked her for that, and I let her go to the launching, and I let her christen it, but I don't see that I need name it for her," said Jack, stoutly.
Mrs. Fenton had not heeded what the children were saying. One might have fancied that she did not hear, although both Floretta and Jack stood quite near her chair.
A large spool that she had wound with colored silk slipped from her lap, and rolled toward Floretta.
"Pick it up, dear," Mrs. Paxton said.
"Don't want to," said Floretta.
Mrs. Fenton stooped, and recovered the spool, and, taking her embroidery frame in her hand, left the piazza, and mounted the stairs to her room.
"Why were you so rude?" said Mrs. Paxton, but Floretta, perching upon the low railing, began softly humming "Yankee Doodle."
Jack Tiverton, espying a boy that he knew, whistled loudly, and then, as the other boy turned, ran after him, the two whooping and shouting like savages.
"It is almost lunch time, Jack!" Mrs. Tiverton cried, and the boy turned, and waved his hand to show that he heard her.
"Boys aren't apt to forget meal time," muttered old Mr. Cunningham behind his paper.