“I say, Dolly, you’re an awful trump!” declared Dotty, as they walked along. “I never should have thought of going to fix things up with old Party. And now, I’m awful glad we did. Why is it, you always have these good thinks and I never do?”
“I dunno. Sometimes it makes me mad though when the boys call me goody-goody. And Celia Ferris said I was a spoilsport. That isn’t very nice to be called, Dot, is it?”
“No; but you always come out all right. You see, I’m full of the dickens, and when the boys want me to cut up jinks, I go into it head over heels without thinking. You hesitate, and think it over and then you do the right thing.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe I am an old Primmy, as Tad calls me. Hello, here’s Tad now.”
Tad Brown met them as he came flying round a corner, closely followed by his twin brother Tod.
“Hello, girls,” Tad called out. “Been to old Party’s? How is she?”
“She’s all right,” and Dolly laughed gaily. “She’s had the doctor and he says her heart’s sound as a dollar. So you see your old joke didn’t hurt her, after all.”
“But it would have,” put in Dotty, “if Doll hadn’t gone there and chirked her up, and told her she wasn’t sick at all.”
“You went too,” said Dolly, laughing.
“Oh, ’course. Whithersoever thou goest, theresoever will I also went. And say, boys, you’ve got to be gooder’n pie to-morrow, and every day, to make up to old Party for your badness. She’s a funny old thing, but she’s nice, and since I’ve seen her at home, I feel different toward her, more intimate like and sorry for her.”