“Oh, Mrs. Spencer hardly ever lets Delight go out to play in March. She says it’s a dangerous month.”
“Huh! We play outdoors any day in the year.”
“I know we do, King. ’Cause Mother wants us to. But Mrs. Spencer is different.”
“Different! I should say she was! She’s about as much like our mother as chalk’s like cheese. Let’s have the Club over here, Mops.”
“No,” said Marjorie, looking thoughtful. “I think we’d better not have it here while Mother’s away. For you know we always break things, or ’most kill ourselves, and after ‘Julius Cæsar’ I think we want to beware of our sort of games.”
“My! but you’re getting cautious! Well, all right; I’ll go to Delight’s this time, but if it’s poky, I won’t go again. Anyway, it’ll be at Flip Henderson’s next time, and I guess we’ll have fun there.”
“I’d just as lieve play quiet games, anyway,” put in Kitty. “I’ve had enough of accidents.”
She glanced at Rosy Posy’s bandaged arm, which, though it didn’t incommode the baby in the least, was a silent reminder to the others.
So, at three o’clock, the three Maynards went across the street to Delight’s house.
Dorothy Adams and Flip Henderson came at the same time, and they all went in together.