"A boy!" said both the girls in horror.
"Think of it, Florence, a horrid boy! What will we do with him? I can't run, and boys despise dolls. As for talking, I never could talk to boys. They shut me up like a clam. I always feel as if they wanted to get away, and I believe they would if they could," said Dimple in a disgusted tone.
But, by this time, Mrs. Dallas had come up to them.
"This is Rock Hardy, girls," said she. "As Dimple is a little lame, I brought him out here, rather than take her in the house," and so saying, she left them. There was a deep silence after they had shaken hands; all looking rather bashful for a few minutes.
Finally Rock took courage to say, "What pretty dolls."
This was encouraging; Florence and Dimple exchanged pleased glances.
"Do you think they are pretty?" asked Dimple. "I thought boys hated dolls."
"I don't," said Rock. "I played with them myself for a long time, and I have one now, but I don't play with it because I like to read better."
"He is a nice boy," thought the girls.
"How funny," said Florence. "How came you to play with dolls?"