"That's good," sighed Grace, with a glance at her small and daintily shod feet.
"Oh, here comes your brother Will!" Betty called to her.
"And that horrid Percy Falconer is with him," went on Mollie. "I—I can't bear him!"
"He's seen Betty—that's why he's hurrying so," spoke Grace. "Probably he's bought a new cane he wants to show her."
"Stop it!" commanded Betty, with a blush. "You know I can't bear him any more than you girls can."
"You can't make Percy believe that—my word!" and Mollie imitated the mannerism perfectly. For young Falconer, be it known, was partial to good clothes of a rather flashy type, and much given to showing them off. He had very little good sense—in fact, what little he had, some of his enemies used to say, he displayed when he showed a preference for pretty Betty Nelson. But she would have none of his company.
"I don't see why Will wants to bring him along," remarked his sister
Grace, in a petulant tone. "He knows we don't like him."
"Perhaps Will couldn't help it," suggested Amy.
"That's nice of you to say, Amy," commented Grace. "I'll tell Will—some time when I get a chance."
"Don't you dare! If you do I'll never speak to you again!" and the pink surged to a deeper red in Amy's cheeks.