“No, I’d just gulp them down with water and have some bread and jelly afterward.”
The children were in the sitting-room, having just returned from Effie’s. Mrs. Loomis was sitting there sewing. She smiled as she listened to what the children were saying. “I think you will be doing just about as you say,” she remarked. “You will swallow down your lessons in the morning, and in the afternoon you will have your bread and jelly in the shape of play. I don’t believe you will find the lessons such a terrible dose as you think.”
“Indeed, I hope so,” returned Jessie with a sigh. “Come on, Adele; Peter Pan has lost his shadow again and I must find it.” This Peter Pan of Jessie’s lost his shadow much more frequently than did the original one, for the shadow was nothing but a bit of newspaper fastened by a piece of thread and it was torn off very often.
“I’m going to have a Peter Pan, too,” Adele announced triumphantly. “Aunt Betty has written papa to bring me one the next time he comes.”
“There couldn’t be two Peter Pans,” said Jessie in an annoyed tone.
“There could, too. I am sure I have just as much right to name my doll after the Peter Pan as you have. There are hundreds and hundreds of George Washingtons in the world and lots and lots of Grover Clevelands.”
Jessie could not deny this, but she was not pleased with the idea of there being another Peter Pan so close at hand. “If you name your doll Peter Pan, I’ll call mine something else,” she said, and then she added, “I won’t have any use for the grotto, of course, so I will just pull it down.”
“I think you are horrid mean,” said Adele. “You know I do love that grotto.”
“Well, you can make one for yourself,” said Jessie calmly. “There’s just as much stuff for it on your side of the brook as there is on mine.”
The tears rushed to Adele’s eyes. “You know I couldn’t. I should never know how, and besides your side of the brook has a much better bank.”