“You’re perfectly silly, Ted. You know it’s simply a wonderful idea,” she proclaimed loftily.
“Do I.” There was no question in the boy’s tone.
“Well, you ought to. But, of course, boys—”
“Oh, there you go. Boys!!” No mistaking this tone.
“Ted Brandon, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. To be so—so mean to mother.”
“Mean to mother! Who said anything about mother?”
“This is mother’s pet scheme.”
“Pretty queer scheme to keep us cooped up all vacation.” He rocked the basket vigorously.
“We won’t have to stay in much at all. Why, just odd times, and besides—” Nancy paused to pat her hair. She might have patted it without pausing but her small brother Ted would then have been less impressed by her assumed dignity, “you see, Teddy, I’m working for a principle. I don’t believe that girls should do a bit more housework than boys.”
“Oh, I know you believe that all-righty.” Ted allowed himself to sigh but did not pause to do so. He kept right on rocking and snapping the blade of his pen-knife open and shut, as if the snap meant something either useful or amusing.