“Let’s not go this way. I don’t want to meet that girl again to-night.”
“Much obliged to you, Nell, for taking my slapping. But Hester never really meant to hit me, after all. You got in the way, you know.”
“You’d better behave,” said one of the twins admonishingly. “You made this trouble, Bobby.”
“There you go!” cried Bobby, with apparent tears. “Nobody loves me; Hester tried to slap me, and Pretty Sweet wouldn’t even walk with me. Oh, and say!” she added, with increased hilarity, “what do you suppose the boys are telling about Pretty now?”
“Couldn’t say,” said Dora Lockwood. “Something ridiculous, I venture to believe.”
“It’s funny,” giggled Bobby. “You see, Purt thinks he’s really getting whiskers.”
“No!” exclaimed Dorothy.
“Sure. You watch him next time you have a chance. He’s always feeling to see if his side-tapes have sprouted. He has got a little yellow fuzz on his upper lip—honest!
“Well, Purt went into Jimmy Fabro’s shop the other day—you know, that hair-cutting place right behind Mr. Betting’s store, on the side street? Well, Purt went in and took a chair. Jimmy was alone.
“‘What you want—hair cut again this week, Pretty?’ asked Jimmy.