“I ain't never tooken a dare yet,” boasted the little boy proudly, his foot on the bottom rung. “Who's going to foller me?”
“Don't we have fun?” cried a jubilant Frances.
“Yes,” answered Jimmy; “if grown folks don't all time be watching you and sticking theirselfs in your way.”
“If people would let us alone,” remarked Lina, “we could enjoy ourselves every day.”
“But grown folks got to be so pertic'lar with you all time,” cried Jimmy, “they don't never want us to play together.”
He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy; and Lina brought up the rear. The children ran the long length of the porch leaving their footprints on the fresh, sticky paint.
“Will it wash off?” asked Frances, looking gloomily down at her feet, which seemed to be encased in green moccasins.
At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the roof. When the others helped her to her feet, she was a sight to behold, her white dress splotched with vivid green from top to bottom.
“If that ain't jus' like you, Frances,” Jimmy exclaimed; “you all time got to fall down and get paint on your dress so we can't 'ceive nobody. Now our mamas bound to know 'bout us clamming up here.”
“They would know it anyhow,” mourned Lina; “we'll never get this paint off of our feet. We had better get right down and see if we can't wash some of it off.”