"Indeed!" said Bea with decision. "The idea! what would papa and mama say; you, Ernestine Dering, parading out on a stage before crowds of people, and flying around like she did. Mercy on us!"
"I'd do it in a minute, and if I can't now, I will sometime anyhow," Ernestine exclaimed with emphasis. "I wasn't born to be smuggled up in this little musty town all my life and I won't, either. Some day I'll do something desperate; you see if I don't."
"Well, I do declare!" said Bea slowly, having never witnessed quite such an energetic ending to Ernestine's spells of restless dissatisfaction. "What talk! I think you'd better sit down and cool off now. Where are Olive and Jean?"
"Olive is sketching out on the roof, and crosser than thirteen sticks. Jean is asleep on the porch, and mama is out showing Huldah how to make cream puffings."
"Dear me," said Bea, by way of answer and looking up with a slight pucker to her smooth forehead, "Just look at those girls; I never saw the like."
Ernestine looked up, to catch a glimpse of two flying figures just clearing the fence, and come dashing across the grass like unruly arrows, to throw themselves under the shade of the beech, with a supreme disregard for flesh and bones.
"Goodness gracious!" gasped Kittie.
"Gracious goodness!" panted Kat.
"I beat."