“Ain’t they sweet?” mimicked Peggy. “They’re just sweet ’nough to get chucked out. Now, you get dressed, an’ take ’em somewhere. D’ you hear?”
Jinnie wheeled about for another tug of war. It was dreadful how she had to fight with Peggy to get her own way about things like this. First with Happy Pete, then with Bobbie, and now—to-day—with five small kittens, not one of them larger than the blind child’s hand. She looked into Mrs. Grandoken’s face, which was still grim, but Jinnie decided not quite so grim as when the woman appeared at her bedroom door.
“I suppose you’ll go in an’ honey round Lafe in a minute, thinkin’ he’ll help you keep ’em,” said Mrs. Grandoken. “But this time it won’t do no good.”
“Peggy!” blurted Jinnie.
“Shut your mouth! An’ don’t be Peggyin’ me, or I’ll swat you,” vowed Peg.
The woman glared witheringly into a pair of beseeching blue eyes.
“Get into your clothes, kid,” she ordered immediately, “then you––”
“Then I’ll come back, dear,” gurgled Jinnie, “and do just what you want me to.” Then with subtle modification, she continued, “I mean, Peg, I’ll do just what you want me to after I’ve talked about it a bit... Oh, please, let me give ’em one little kiss apiece.”
Peggy flounced to the stove.
“Be a fool an’ kiss ’em if you want to... I hate ’em.”