Dot. Well, I think we have an awfully good time, anyway. You said you liked Thanksgiving.
Dick. That was because of the dinner part. When we tried to play games and dance afterwards, what did we do? We played Hide the Thimble, and if I hid it there was only you to look, and of course you couldn't help finding it first. We had to play Going to Jerusalem with just one chair, and the two of us went around and around and around till we felt like the "Little Rid Hin" in John's story. I declare there aren't enough of us to play Puss-in-the-corner. Two children can't have any fun. [Puts his head down on his arms.]
Dot [sighs]. That's so.
Dick [lifts up his head suddenly]. And I'd just like to know what's the fun of coasting when you haven't anything to shout "clear the track" at, but ash barrels, and hens and cats that you can't run over anyway. I wish there were forty-'leven boys on the track this minute.
Dot. Well, I don't care about the track, but brothers and sisters are nice to play with. Wouldn't it be nice if there were two of you and two of me?
Dick. Two of us! I wish there were six of each of us. I wish I could go and live with the Ruggles's, in your story about the "Birds' Christmas Carol." There were nine of them and they only got washed about once a year. And folks weren't always saying, "Land! where did you get them dirty hands?"
Dot. That would be fun! We could play just as untidy games——
Dick. Don't talk about it, it makes me cross. [Folds his arms, crosses his feet, and whistles something sad. Dot gets out her handkerchief and spreads it in her lap.]
Jim [softly]. I say, Polly, that boy's got an awful nice sled.