"Why, yes, I thought he would do that; but he shan't if he doesn't want to."
"Oh, I do want to," declared King, agreeably. "I'm not afraid of any grumpy girl. I'll smile on her so sweetly, she'll have to smile back." And King gave such an idiotic grin that they all smiled back at him.
"Now," went on Cousin Ethel, briskly, "I thought, Marjorie, you could have the doll cart, and Kitty could be with May Perry and help sell the flowers. The flower wagon will be very pretty, and flowers are always easy to sell."
"So are dolls," said Marjorie. "Can I help you make some. Cousin Ethel, or are they already made?"
"The more elaborate dolls are being dressed by the ladies of our Club. But I thought, that if your mother and I and you girls could get to work to-day, we could make a lot of funny little dolls that I'm sure would be saleable."
"Let me help, too," said Cousin Jack. "I can make lovely dolls out of peanuts."
"Nonsense," said his wife, "we can all make peanut dolls. And besides, Jack, you must get away to your business. Your office boy will think you're lost, strayed, or stolen."
"I suppose I must," sighed Cousin Jack; "it's awful to be a workingman.
Come on, Ned; want to go in to Boston with me?"
The two men went away, and after a while Cousin Ethel called the children to come to what she called a Dolly-Bee.
On the table, in the pleasant living room, they found heaps of materials. Bits of silk and lace and ribbon, to dress little dolls,—and all sort of things to make dolls of.