"I'm not, either. What in the world would I want to do that for? It's true, every word of it. You can ask mother if it isn't."
"What's she going for?" asked Mary Lee.
"Oh, just because. Grown people have their reasons for doing things and we can't always be told them," replied Nan, with, it must be said, rather a condescending air.
"Do you know why?" asked her sister, determined upon getting to the heart of the matter.
"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't."
"If you do, I think you are downright mean not to tell me. I'm 'most as old as you, and she's my mother as much as she is yours."
These latter facts Nan could not deny, so she answered weakly, "Well, anyhow, I shan't tell."
Mary Lee was slow to wrath, but once aroused she did not hesitate to speak her worst. She deposited her roll of horse blanket upon the ground and the duck with satisfied quacks waddled forth from the encumbering folds, glad of her freedom. "You are altogether too high and mighty, Nancy Weston Corner," said Mary Lee, quite outraged by Nan's refusal. "You're a scurvy old pullet, so there!"
"I like your way of calling names," returned Nan contemptuously. "I should think any one could tell that you had been near a slop barrel; you talk like it."
Mary Lee did not wait for further words, but fled to her mother, Nan following, taking the shorter way and reaching her mother first. "I tried to tell Mary Lee without saying why," she began breathlessly, "and she called me a horrid name, so I don't know how it will turn out."