She laughed, while she chose one of the apples that lay beside her, and plunged her strong young teeth into it.
"Yes, I'm Teddy," she said, with her mouth somewhat too full for elegance. "My real name is Theodora," she added, speaking rather more distinctly.
"I think I like the other best," the boy replied, laughing in his turn.
"I don't. Teddy is like a boy; but Theodora is stately and dignified. I want to be called Theodora; but in a family like ours, there are bound to be nicknames."
"You aren't the only one, then?"
"Mercy, no! There are five of us."
"How jolly it must be! I'm the only one." The boy's tone was a bit wishful. "Are they all like you?"
"I hope not." Theodora's laugh rang out a second time, hearty and infectious. "There are two good ones, and two bad ones, and a baby."
"Which are you?" the boy asked mischievously.
"What a question! I'm bad, of course, that is, in comparison with Hope. She's the oldest, and we get worse as we go down the line. I shudder to think what the baby may develop into."