“About being a tattle-tale, of course,” Dorothy began, and stopped short, setting her pretty little mouth in a straight, determined line. “Frisky asked me not to talk about it, and I shan’t,” she announced. “So don’t you try to make me.”
Betty was mending a pair of Dorothy’s gloves. She stuck the needle into the rip, folded the gloves, and silently began upon the holes in her own stockings. Dorothy pretended to look out the window, but she kept one eye on Betty, who appeared completely absorbed in her work.
“It’s a lovely day,” the Smallest Sister observed presently.
No answer.
“Aren’t we going for our walk pretty soon?” demanded the Smallest Sister, after a polite interval.
There was another polite interval, then she came over to Betty’s chair and repeated her question. “Didn’t you hear me, Betty? I asked can’t we go for our walk pretty soon?”
Betty looked at her coldly. “You can go any time you like,” she said.
“But I’m your company. You asked me to spend the afternoon, and have supper with you and Miss Eleanor and Eugenia.”
Betty continued her cold scrutiny of the Smallest Sister’s small person. “I asked my nice little sister to supper,” she announced judicially. “I didn’t ask a silly little girl who has silly little quarrels with her best friends, and then won’t talk it over with me and let me help her straighten it all out.”
“I don’t want to straighten it out,” muttered Dorothy defiantly, “and Frisky specially asked us——”