"Why, Kat, what is the matter?"
"Nothing; not a blessed thing; I'm just trying to see how big a goose I can be. Where did you come from?"
"Down town. Why, child, you look as if you had been crying for hours. What is the matter?"
"Nothing, I tell you; take my word, and get out of the way, for I'm going to jump;" and down she came from above, with a swinging leap that brought a shower of half-ripe apples with her, and filled the air with leaves. "I had the dumps a little, and I've been sitting here in the tree crying over this book, until my nose is so big that I cannot see over it, and my eyes ache terribly."
"I should think they would, and you look dreadfully frowzled," said Bea, smoothing down her own dress, with an air of self-approval. "Really, Kat—"
"Oh, come now, don't. I never was, and never will be a pink of propriety; and I would like to have a little peace and rest from lectures. You and Kittie are getting so orderly and band-boxy-fied, that there's no pleasure living. I'll be glad when Olive comes back, for she isn't quite so distressingly particular!" exclaimed Kat, who was evidently in anything but the best of humors.
"Well, don't get fussy about it, and I won't say any more," promised Bea, with a conciliatory smile. "Besides, I've got some good news. We are invited to Mrs. Raymond's picnic, next Wednesday!"
"You don't say so; hurrah!" cried Kat, in a sudden gale of delight, her eyes beginning to sparkle behind their still wet lashes.
"What oceans of bliss! Who did you see?"
"Clara and Lou; they were just coming out here to invite us, when I met them. It will be splendid; they are going ten miles out, and they supply carriages for all, and there will be boating and dancing, and games, and just everything delightful."