"What's happened?" Peggy demanded briskly. She knew Ruth well enough to be aware that the "awfullest thing" might mean that her father was bankrupt or that she had mislaid her thimble. People who habitually indulge in superlatives must not complain over belated sympathy.
"Just read this." Ruth checked herself suddenly. "It's something," she said in an altered voice "that it would be better for small persons not to overhear."
Peggy turned hastily. Dorothy stood in the doorway, her resentful gaze fastened upon Ruth. Dorothy was extremely sensitive regarding any reference to her tender years, and seldom failed to grasp the import of a carefully veiled allusion to her presence, even though the words used were beyond her understanding.
"There aren't any small persons over here," she announced, scowling darkly in Ruth's direction. "There's nobody here but free big girls."
Peggy discreetly dropped her hair over her face to veil a smile.
"I wonder what Taffy's doing," she said diplomatically. "I hope he isn't out on the front lawn where he'll get into a quarrel with the butcher's dog."
Dorothy looked stubbornly at the toes of her small shoes, and Peggy tried another tack.
"Let's see! I wonder if I left any caramels on the plate in the pantry last night. Yes, I believe there were two or three."
"Maybe Dick ate 'em," suggested Dorothy, falling into the snare.
"He hadn't eaten them fifteen minutes ago when I came upstairs. On the plate with the blue castle, Dorothy, dear, and Sally'll hand it down to you if you can't reach it." Peggy laughed out, as Dorothy clattered down the stairs. "Isn't she quick?" she exclaimed admiringly. "That child knew in a second you wanted to get rid of her." She shook her hair back as she spoke, and, for the first time, caught sight of Ruth's face.