As he spoke, he affectionately pulled off Marjorie’s hair ribbon, and the mop of dark curls that gave her one of her nicknames came tumbling all over her laughing face.
This was a favorite performance of King’s, and though it never teased Marjorie, there was, of course, but one reply to it. That was to tweak the end of King’s Windsor tie out of its neat bow, and, if possible, out from under his flat round white collar.
But knowing what was coming, King sprang away and around the table before even quick-motioned Midget could catch him. Of course a race ensued. Round the room they went, knocking over a few chairs and light articles of furniture, until King paused and danced maddeningly up and down on one side of the large centre table, while Midget, at the other side, stood alert to spring after him should he run.
“Mopsy, Midget, Midge, just come around the idge!” sang King, as he made a feint of going one way, then another.
But even as he leaned over to smile teasingly in her face, Marjorie made a quick grab across the table, and just gripped the end of his tie enough to untie it.
Then, of course, peace was declared, although a pile of books was knocked off the table, and a small vase upset.
“My dear children,” sighed Mrs. Maynard, as Marjorie, flushed but smiling with victory, came back to her mother to have her hair retied, “why do you have to play so,—so emphatically?”
“Why, I just had to catch him, you see,” was Midget’s plausible explanation, “’cause a hair-ribbon pull-off always means a necktie untie. Doesn’t it, King?”
“Yep,” agreed her brother, who was adjusting his tie before a mirror, “always. If Miss Larkin pulls off my tie, I shall sure go for her hair-ribbon.”
“I believe you would,” said Mrs. Maynard; “and the worst of it is, Miss Larkin will be so anxious to entertain and amuse you, that I’m sure she’ll try to enter into your childish games. If she does, do try to remember she’s a lady and not a member of the Jinks Club.”