“That’s so,” he said. “Well, we can draw straws to see which has to take her.”
“Straws nothing!” said Beany. “She came to me, so she is mine. Darned if I know what to do with a girl, though! Can’t teach her to play ball or marbles, and besides that she can’t be a Boy Scout.”
“Well, she can be a girl one. You know they have ’em, and if she can’t play ball she can learn to swim and dive and ride and shoot, and it will be pretty handy to have her round the house when it comes to buttons and things. Mother must get tired sewing for three of us.”
“Wonder how long it takes ’em to grow up to button size,” said Beany, studying the tiny bundle in his arms.
“Don’t know,” said Porky. He looked anxiously at his brother. His generosity in accepting the care of the little girl worried him. He had to watch Beany, who was always more than generous and self-sacrificing.
“Why can’t we both have both kids?” he asked. “I don’t want you to be stung with a girl all the time. It isn’t fair.”
“Stuck with a girl!” said Beany. “Why, Porky, I like it! I never could see why when any one has a baby, everybody says, ‘Gee, it’s a boy! Isn’t that bully?’ or else ‘Huh, it’s a girl, too bad!’ I never could see it. Course when they get our size they mostly are silly pills, but if I have a hand in bringing up this girl, why, you just watch her, that’s all! I bet when she’s fifteen she won’t look cross-eyed at a boy. I bet she knocks their blocks off! She is going to have some sense!”
“Looks as though you mean to make a scrapper of her,” laughed Porky.
“No, she has got to grow up just as much like Mom as she can.”
“Well, Mom likes boys all right,” was Porky’s reminder.