"Don't ask us." Peggy gathered Elizabeth's arm under hers, and hurried her along.
"They are sort of nice," she admitted, when they had put several yards between them and the objects of their encounter. "If they are really nice, I suppose they will get introduced the way they ought to. If they aren't, well, we won't see them."
"It's a sort of strain waiting to find out such things," Elizabeth said.
"Read me Jean's letter, and that will take our minds off them," Peggy demanded, practically. "One reason that I don't like to have much to do with boys is that when you get thinking about them it's hard to get your mind on other things. If they are silly, they aren't any fun."
"On the other hand," Elizabeth argued, "if they aren't just a little bit—silly or—something—they aren't so much fun."
"Well, they have to be interested in you some," Peggy admitted.
"Now I'll read you Jean's letter. We'll sit down under this tree by the gate. See how pretty her handwriting is. Doesn't she make fascinating E's and R's?"
"I think there is a lot of character in handwriting," Peggy said, bending her head over the letter. "See this one from Piggy Chambers. He writes like a pig and he is one."
"See this card from my brother Buddy. He writes like a perfect gentleman, and he is one, though I say it as shouldn't."
"Oh, I've seen your brother's handwriting before, but not for a long time. Why don't you write him to write Ruthie? I'd a whole lot rather she was hearing from him regularly than from Piggy."