“Yep,” he returned, smiling good-naturedly. “We Maynards never really quarrel, we just sort of squarrel, you know.”
“That’s sort of between quarreling and squabbling,” observed Kitty.
“Right you are, Kit! You grow brighter every day, don’t you?”
Kitty beamed at her brother’s compliment, for she well knew King meant it as such.
“Let’s play games,” suggested Miss Larkin next. “Shall we play Parcheesi?”
“Too poky,” said Midget. “I want to run and jump round. Let’s go outdoors. Come with us, Miss Larkin, and take a walk?”
“Larky, Larky,” chanted King, “let’s go to the park-y, and walk till after dark-y.”
“Walk till nearly dark-y,” corrected Marjorie. “Oh, I’ll tell you what we’ll do; we’ll take a spring ramble.”
“What’s that? Something like this?” and King jumped up, and tripped across the room with affected mincing gait.
“No; it’s just a walk in the spring. But you call it a spring ramble, if you go off on the country paths, and pick some wild flowers, and wonder what the birds are.”