“Horrid things!” pouted Mabel. “I told Phil if he didn’t behave he couldn’t come in.”
“Ha-nah-do-see-dah—kam-chat-kah!” called a voice. “Little maidens of the camp fire!”
“Oh, behave yourselves!” ordered Mabel, going to the door, but she could not smother the laughter out of her voice, and it broke into a merry peal as she beheld her brother and his two chums.
They stood on the steps, wrapped in old blankets, their faces outlined with colored chalk, and parts of a feather duster tied in their hair.
“How!” gutturally mumbled Phil, as he stalked into the hall, followed by Jack and Blake.
“How! How!” echoed the others.
“We come for heap big peace-talk,” went on Phil.
“Oh, don’t be silly!” admonished his sister, but the boys preserved their gravity, even if she did not, and her half-hysterical laughter brought her friends from the library.
“Aren’t they funny!” exclaimed Natalie, who, having no brother of her own, might be expected to take more than a casual interest in those of other girls.
“Thank you, pale-faced maiden,” spoke Blake. “You are as the breath of the pine tree, and——”