"Not the minister's girl?"
She nodded.
"Well, I swan!" And Mr. Rogers picked up his hoe, and fell to pondering upon the problem of infant depravity, while Isabel turned and scuttled after her friend.
"What do you want, Hu?" Phebe was calling.
"Hope says it's time for you to come home now, and get dressed."
"Bother! I don't want to. Isabel and I are having fun."
Hubert took her hand and turned it palm upward.
"It must be a queer kind of fun, from the color of you," he observed. "But come, Babe, Hope is waiting."
Isabel had joined them and fallen into step at their side.
"What a queer name Hope is!" she said critically, for she wished to convince Phebe that she and all her family were under the ban of her lasting displeasure.