“And then they call one formal, for trying to protect the right name,” said Flora. “It is, one-half of it, silliness, and, the other, affectation of intimacy.”
“Now, I know,” said Mary, “why you are so careful to call Meta Miss Rivers, to all the people here.”
“I should hope so!” cried Norman indignantly.
“Why, yes, Mary,” said Margaret, “I should hope lady-like feelings would prevent you from calling her Meta before—”
“The Andersons!” cried Ethel, laughing. “Margaret was just going to say it. We only want Harry, to exact the forfeit! Poor dear little humming-bird! It gives one an oppression on the chest, to think of her having that great do-nothing brother on her hands all day.”
“Thank you,” said Norman, “I shall know where I am not to look when I want a sister.”
“Ay,” said Ethel, “when you come yawning to me to find amusement for you, you will see what I shall do!”
“Stand over me with a stick while I print A B C for Cocksmoor, I suppose,” said Norman.
“Well! why not? People are much better doing something than nothing.”
“What, you won’t even let me blow bubbles!” said Norman.