“There is so!” retorted Flossie, trying hard to pull the dish away from her brother. “There’s sugar and milk in my dish and I want it, Freddie Bobbsey.”
Bert had a look in the dish over which there was such a dispute. There was only a very little milk on the bottom—hardly a spoonful. But sometimes Flossie could be very fussy over little things, and this was one of those occasions.
“Her dish is empty and it ought to be washed,” Freddie said, and he would not let go his hold until Bert took his fingers off, saying:
“Come on, Freddie, I’ll let you help me make the water wheel as soon as I’ve had something to eat. Let the girls do the dishes.”
“Oh, all right,” agreed the little boy. Then to Flossie he cried:
“Girls are cry babies and they have to wash dishes! Boys make things, and I’m going to make a water wheel!”
“I am not a cry baby, am I, Nan?” appealed Flossie.
“No, dear, you aren’t, of course,” Nan answered. “You mustn’t call names, Freddie.”
“Well, then why didn’t she let me take her dish out when it was empty?” the little boy wanted to know.
“’Tisn’t empty! I’m going to eat the rest of my oatmeal,” said Flossie, and she began to scrape up with her spoon what little milk remained. There was hardly enough to show, but Flossie made as much work over it as though the dish were half full.