Mabel was not very happy on this morning, it proved. Her face was flushed when she came to the fence, and she spoke to the Kenway girls hoarsely, as though she suffered from a cold.
“Come on over here and play. I’m tired of playing so at arm’s length like we’ve been doing.”
“Oh, we couldn’t,” said Tess, shaking her head vigorously.
“Why not? You haven’t quarantine at your house,” said Mabel, pouting.
“Mrs. McCall says we mustn’t—nor you mustn’t come over here.”
“I don’t care,” began Mabel, but Tess broke in cheerfully, with:
“Oh, let’s keep on using the make-believe telephone. And let’s make believe the river’s in a flood between us, and the bridges are all carried away, and——”
“No! I won’t play that way,” cried Mabel, passionately, and with a stamp of her foot. “I want you to come over here.”
“We can’t,” said Tess, quite as firmly.
“You’re mean things—there now! I never did like you, anyway. I want you to play in my yard——”