“Stop staring,” Betty whispered.
“I can’t help it, I never saw a boy with redder hair.” Instinctively they all turned.
“Carrots.”
“Brick top.”
“Stop, this is terrible, let’s start something.”
“All right, get ready.”
“Go!”
They took their positions and were again skirmishing after the puck.
“Oh, let’s quit, I’m dead,” Angela pleaded weakly, after they had played for a time. She had been buffeted about until she was completely winded.
“All right, lazy, you rest and we’ll crack the whip,” teased Betty.