'And that sounds as if I am going to be asked to stay to tea, Floss?' Mortimer said.
'Of course you are,' was Flossie's reply. 'Miss Browne says it's the least we can do, considering all the papers and things you give us. Only she says she doesn't know how she's going to make the butter spin out. We don't get it from the store again till Thursday.'
'There, hold your tongue, Floss,' said Bart, 'you'll make Morty afraid to take any.'
'Oh no, he needn't be,' Floss said. 'Me and Roly's going to say we don't like it under our jam.'
Roly came stealthily from behind some trees.
'Where is she?' he whispered.
'It's all right,' Floss said; 'she's got to change her dress, and her hair was pretty awful, so she'll have to do it again.'
Thus reassured, Roly ventured to the step, and took up a position at Mortimer's shoulder. He was attired in an orange and blue-striped football jersey, and the most respectable pair of knickerbockers he possessed. Mortimer had given him the jersey on his last birthday, and it was the boy's dearest possession.
'Why,' said Mortimer, 'what have you been after? Is Miss Browne laying wait for you for stealing her jam?'
'Oh no,' said Roly. 'It's only this,' and he pointed to his jersey; 'she doesn't think it's religious to wear football things on Sunday.'