"You shan't!" little Trixie cried, in sudden wrath, from the next crib. "When I grow up I'm going to marry her myself."
She bounced in her bed.
Dick answered her from his knees. He looked like an angel as he knelt there in his nightgown, with his fair curls falling about his flushed face.
"Girls can't marry girls," he explained, scornfully.
"They can!" Trixie screamed.
"They can't!" Dick roared.
He picked up one of his little shoes by the side of the bed, and threw it at Trixie. There was an immediate wail from the next crib. Dick was always a good shot.
"Oh, children, children!" my mother cried, in despair. "Dick, go to sleep this moment. Trixie, Trixie, dear, you are not really hurt."
"But her feelings are, mother," I protested.