“Don’t get riled, Miss Scricket,” returned Archie, whirling her around. “That’s only a love-pat.”
“A love-pat!” said Cricket, scornfully. “I shouldn’t like to feel one of your hate-pats, then. Mamma, what can Hilda and I do this afternoon?”
“We girls are going to the museum again,” said Eunice. “Come with us.”
“No, we don’t want to. You like to see such disinteresting things. Mummies and all that. I only like the pictures and marbles, anyway.”
“We want something very nice,” put in Hilda, “because we kept house all day yesterday, and did very hard work.”
“Yes,” sighed Cricket, “I’ve learned two things lately. I don’t want to adopt a baby and have it keep me awake at night, and I don’t want to be poor and not have any books to read. Mamma, what can we do?”
“There is one thing I want you to do,” said mamma, promptly, knowing by long experience that when children are begging for something to do, nothing seems very attractive, if offered as a choice. The same thing, given as something from which there is no appeal, will be done cheerfully.
“I want you both to go and see Emily Drayton for a little while this afternoon. It is Hilda’s last chance. Eunice and Edith went yesterday. Go about three o’clock. She’ll be delighted to see you, if she is at home.”
“That will be jolly. I hope she’ll be in. Must we make a regular call, mamma, or can we plain go and see her?”
“‘Plain go and see her,’” said mamma, smiling. “Only go and put on your Sunday dress. It will be more polite to dress especially for it,” added wise mamma, knowing the process of dressing would help fill up the afternoon. Papa had planned to take all the children for a long drive this afternoon, but as he was unexpectedly called away, it had to be given up, and the girls were thrown on their own resources.