“No, they won’t,” said Midget; “it’s just a new sort of jinks, that’s all. Then, of course, we’ll all come in here, and have the celebration, and have a feast, and if they don’t like that—I don’t know why.”
“Shall we give her presents?”
“Yes, of course. Little things, you know. I’ve only got about thirty-five cents left of my allowance.”
“I’ve only ten,” said Kitty, “but I’ll make something for her—a pincushion, maybe.”
“H’sh! here she comes!” whispered King, warningly, and the plans were dropped for the present, as Miss Larkin came into the room.
“Well, little busy ones,” she said, “what are you doing now? Plotting some mischief?”
“No, Miss Larkin,” said Midget. “Truly it’s not mischief this time. Though King did say he was spoiling for some,” she added, with a laughing glance at her brother.
“Yes, I did,” he retorted; “and I think I’ll have some! Girls, let’s tease Larky!”
It was a strange thing, but the young Maynards always knew instinctively when Miss Larkin was in a mood to be teased, and would take it good-naturedly, or when she was in an austere mood, and would be angry if they trifled with her dignity.
But her indulgent smile at King’s words was the signal for a general attack.