“He plagues us all the time,” complained Betty.
“It’s very odd, though,” commented Kingdon, meditatively, and with a twinkle in his eye, “how you do like to be plagued. You are always tagging at his heels. I think you must be coquetting with Jo.”
“He’s so different with them from Kurt,” said Mrs. Kingdon. “Kurt is so patient and so sweet with children. He understands them.”
“Kurt,” said Pen, “seems to be like some things that are too good for everyday use. He should be laid away on a shelf for Sundays.” Then, meeting Mrs. Kingdon’s wondering eyes, she added with a little flush: “That isn’t true—and it’s unkind! I don’t really mean it.”
“We are all ready for our sewing bee,” observed Mrs. Kingdon, smiling. “What shall we begin on?”
“I’m wondering,” said Pen meditatively, “if I hadn’t better rig up something evening-like for the dance to-night. If you could let me borrow a white muslin curtain, I could easily rig it up into an impromptu dance frock.”
“Jo said he knew a man who turned an automobile into a lamp post,” said Betty.
“Oh, Betty!” laughed Pen, “maybe there is hope for a sinner to be turned into a saint.”
“We won’t have to resort to curtains,” said Mrs. Kingdon. “I have a white satin skirt that is too short for me, and you can fashion a waist from a piece of white muslin.”
“And Doris left her white slippers that were too short for her,” reminded Betty.