They tried not to laugh, but the handsome little fellow was so angry, and all because Arabella had called him pretty. Reginald, who never could be angry long, joined in the general laugh which could not be controlled.
Early Monday morning Dorothy and Nancy were skipping along the avenue on their way to school.
Every day of the first week had been sunny, and here was Monday with the bright blue sky overhead, and the little sunbeams dancing on the road.
“We had every lesson perfect last week,” said Dorothy, “and I mean to get ‘perfect’ this week, too.”
“So do I,” said Nancy, “and I can, if Arabella doesn't make me do half her examples!”
“I don't think she ought to,” Dorothy said.
“She doesn't really ask me to,” said Nancy, “but it's almost the same. She says she can't do them, and says she could if some one was kind enough to just show her how. Then I can't seem to be unkind, and the minute I say I'll help her, she pushes her slate and pencil towards me. ‘You can do 'em easier than I can,’ she says, and instead of helping her, I do them all.”
“Does Aunt Charlotte like to have you?” asked Dorothy.
“I don't know; I haven't told her about it yet. I don't want to be a telltale,” Nancy said.
“Of course you don't,” agreed Dorothy, “but you know Aunt Charlotte says that we are to be independent, and Arabella's anything but independent when she doesn't do her examples herself. It's puzzling, though; mamma says we mustn't notice her queer ways, and that we must be kind to her, and it doesn't seem kind to refuse to help her with her lessons.”