“Perhaps pigs may whistle, but they’ve poor mouths for it,” was all the answer Peter deigned to this charming suggestion.
“There goes Mr. Campbell down the road,” said Dan. “That’s his new mare. Isn’t she a dandy? She’s got a skin like black satin. He calls her Betty Sherman.”
“I don’t think it’s very nice to call a horse after your own grandmother,” said Felicity.
“Betty Sherman would have thought it a compliment,” said the Story Girl.
“Maybe she would. She couldn’t have been very nice herself, or she would never have gone and asked a man to marry her,” said Felicity.
“Why not?”
“Goodness me, it was dreadful! Would YOU do such a thing yourself?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said the Story Girl, her eyes gleaming with impish laughter. “If I wanted him DREADFULLY, and HE wouldn’t do the asking, perhaps I would.”
“I’d rather die an old maid forty times over,” exclaimed Felicity.
“Nobody as pretty as you will ever be an old maid, Felicity,” said Peter, who never put too fine an edge on his compliments.