“Why not?”
“Because the rest of us girls will not agree to follow her,” declared Laura, confidently.
“You know she won’t play if she can’t be ‘it,’” grinned Billy.
“Now you see,” returned Laura, good naturedly, and a moment later she parted from the short boy.
She had not walked another block toward the schoolhouse when she heard a voice calling her name:
“Laura! Laura Belding!”
“Why, Jess!” exclaimed Laura, eagerly. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
Josephine, or “Jess,” Morse was a taller girl than her friend, with bright gray eyes, and hair of that “fly-away” variety that never will look smooth. Despite Miss Morse’s bright eyes she often did the most ridiculous things quite thoughtlessly. Her mind was of the “wandering” variety. And almost always one could find an ink stain on her finger. This marked her among her girl friends, at least, as being “literary.” And, as the old folk say, “she came by it naturally.” Her mother, Mrs. Mary Morse, had some little reputation as a writer for the magazines.
“Yes,” said Miss Morse, putting her arm around her chum’s waist as they walked on together. “I just had to come. If you are going in for athletics, Laura, of course I’ve got to.”
“Too bad,” laughed her friend. “You’re just whipped into it, I suppose?”