"I like shinning better!" said Peggy, putting half a muffin in her mouth. "Can you shin?"
"Shin! what—oh! up a tree, you mean. I'm afraid not."
"I can!" said Peggy triumphantly. "I can beat most of the boys at it, only Ma won't let me do it, on account of my clothes. Says I'm too old, too; bother! I'm not going to be a primmy, just because I am fifteen. How old are you, Margaret?"
"Seventeen; and as two years make a great difference, you know, Peggy, I shall put on all the airs of an elder sister. You know the Elder Sister's part,—
"Good advice and counsel sage,
And 'I never did so when I was your age!'"
"All right!" said Peggy. "I'll call you elder sister. Ma always says I ought to have had one, instead of being one."
"Well, first comes something that we must both do; that is, go and see Mrs. Cheriton; and if you will let me, dear, I am going to tie your necktie for you."
Peggy submitted meekly, while Margaret pulled the crumpled white tie round to the front, re-tied, patted, and poked it. Then her hair must be coaxed a little—or not so very little!—and then—
"What have you done to your frock, child? it is buttoned all crooked! Why, isn't there a looking-glass in your room?"
"Oh, yes!" said Peggy. "But I hate to look in the glass! There's sure to be something the matter, and I do despise fussing over clothes."