She hesitated a little, and then said,—
"Pickle dear, I should like you best; but I feel as though I ought to ask Prissy Polperran. I'm afraid she sometimes thinks I am unkind to her. We used to be a good deal together, but I haven't time now that I have so many more things to do."
"Oh, bother that young poll-parrot!" cried Pickle; "I don't see why you should be bothered by her. She's a regular kill-joy. You know she is."
"It would be kind," said Esther gently; "she would like it very much. But you may drive her, Pickle, if mama and Mr. Earle don't mind."
"Not I, thank you!" answered Pickle scornfully. "I can't abide the stuck-up minx. She's a little prig. She's——"
Pickle suddenly stopped short. The Sunday class in the arbor still went on, and the children discussed with interest each week how they were "getting on with their sins," and how many dragons they had killed. They also had a little book now, and Esther wrote down in it what good resolutions they made week by week. It was rather like a "Sunday game" to the little people; nevertheless it was not without its effect upon them. Pickle's sudden stop was due to the remembrance that they had last Sunday resolved to try and be kind to other people, and always do as they would be done by; so that saying all these things about Prissy was not quite according to their rule.
"Oh, bother!" he said, and looked at Esther, and then began to laugh. In a minute he spoke again,—
"All right, Ess. Take Pretty Polly. I suppose she will like it, and they don't have half the fun we do. I'll try to be civil to her all day too, if I can; but she is such a precious——"
Another stop and another laugh.
"I say, Essie, I think we make too many resolutions. I'm always tripping over some of them. Don't let's have any new ones till we've learned how to keep these."