“That’s so,” agreed King, stopping slowly, and helping Kitty to preserve her equilibrium.
“But I do say,” he went on, as they all three burst in at the front door together, “I’d rather have plain, everyday Jinks than to go to a Spencer party.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Marjorie, who was always satisfied with things as they came. “I liked the party part of it, and the supper was grand.”
“But it was so mixed up,” said Kitty. “In the first place, it wasn’t a party, ’cause there was no ice cream, and yet it was a party, ’cause we sat at the table, and had the cut-glass goblets. Then, it wasn’t a party, ’cause we weren’t dressed up, and yet it was a party, ’cause the grown-ups helped entertain us.”
“That’s the point, Kit,” said her brother. “It wasn’t either party or Jinks Club, but a mixture of both. I’d rather have either one thing or the other. But I’ll make up for it now. I was so ’fraid I’d cut up jinks over there, I didn’t know what to do. But here goes!”
Like one let suddenly loose from restraint, King turned two or three handsprings down the long hall, and at the last one managed to collide with both Miss Larkin and Rosamond’s doll-carriage. The three were pretty well tangled up; King lost his balance, Miss Larkin lost her dignity, and the doll-carriage lost a wheel.
But King was in high spirits by this time.
“There, there, Larky,” he said, “you’re all right. Pick up her back comb, Mops. Don’t step on her eyeglasses, Kitty! Look out, they’re right under your feet!”
Fortunately the comb and glasses were rescued intact and restored to their owner.
Miss Larkin didn’t quite know whether to be annoyed or to laugh, but King was in a wheedlesome mood, and he patted her shoulders, and smoothed down her laces as he said: