“But, Stella—that is your name, isn’t it?” he began.
“It is one of my names,” she replied with dignity. But just then Scotty dashed between them, nearly upsetting both, while Sin followed with scarcely less of abandon, shrieking “A woodchuck! A woodchuck!” at the top of her voice.
“I wouldn’t go any nearer if I were you, Cynthia,” advised Ethan gravely, while Doris and her teacher, calling out futile appeals to “be careful,” lagged breathless in the rear.
“It’s nothing but a horrid old skunk,” Cynthia presently complained, coming back quite crestfallen. “Will you never learn anything, you old dunderhead?” This to the sheepish Sir Walter, whom she had by his collar and the hair of his head.
“When you’ve skinned as many as I have, you won’t be liable to make any mistake,” the boy observed; whereat Doris shuddered visibly.
“You know,” she informed the others, “Ethan skins everything he can get hold of—and cuts them up, too, as often as not—cats and dogs and rabbits and frogs—ugh! He calls it ‘studying biology,’—isn’t it perfectly dreadful?”
“Ethan will probably be a great scientist, some day,” suggested Miss Morrison.
“He’s going to be a doctor, he says,” Cynthia bluntly objected, causing the boy to blush uncomfortably, while Stella regarded him with new respect.