At sight of her he stopped whistling, whipped off his cap and greeted her, “Hello, Sis. I thought that would bring you if you were about. Oh, don’t look so tickled over my politeness--I just took off my hat because I’m hot. This walk from the trolley on a day like this warms you up.”
His words brought a light push from the girl as she took her place beside him and they walked on.
“That’s a mournful whistle for a home-coming,” Amanda told him. “Can’t you find a more appropriate one?”
“My repertoire is limited, sister--I learned that big word in English class to-day and had to try it out on some one.”
“Phil, you’re crazy!” was the uncomplimentary answer, but her eyes smiled with pride upon the tall, red-haired boy beside her. “I see it’s one of your giddy days so I’ll sober you up a bit--Aunt Rebecca’s at the house.”
“Oh, yea!” He held his side in mock agony.
“Again? What’s the row now? Any curtain lectures?”
“Be comforted, Phil. She’s going home to-night if you’ll drive her to Landisville.”
“Won’t I though!” he said, with the average High School boy’s disregard of pure English. “Surest thing you know, Sis, I’ll drive her home or anywhere else. What’s she doing?”
“Helping Mother cut carpet rags.”