‘Oh, no; take the whole jolly lot,’ begged his sister.
Kit’s countenance fell slightly when he peered into the bag. ‘Acid drops,’ he commented briefly, and put a couple critically into his mouth. ‘Who brought them?’
‘Dr. Hurst. He said they were wholesome,’ replied Babs, by way of explanation. She did not want Kit to think she had been such a muff as to choose acid drops in preference to chocolate.
‘That’s just about what he would say,’ remarked the boy, putting several more of them into his mouth.
‘I–I think he’s all right, Kit,’ said Barbara, timidly.
Christopher shook his head vigorously. It was the only form of reply possible to him at the moment.
‘He’s a rotter,’ he said, as soon as he could speak; ‘and so slack, too!’ He peered again into the paper bag. ‘Is it worth while?’ he murmured to himself, and decided that it was not. ‘Pity it wasn’t some one else who got them for you,’ he added with a sigh, as he returned to the bed.
‘He isn’t bad, really, Kit,’ persisted the child, looking troubled.
‘Not bad? Why, he’s an awful old soft, Babe,’ answered Kit, contemptuously. ‘If you were a boy, you’d know.’
‘He isn’t old, anyhow. He’s only twenty-eight; I asked him,’ said Babs, eagerly.