“I see nothing to do but ask Mrs. Manton about it,” suggested Wyn. “It looks like a first class lot of fun.”
“Ask her if she is entertaining a boy in velvet pants?” said Treble, so foolishly, the girls all but rolled under the table and the oil lamp shook dangerously in the merriment.
“When they’re velvet they’re never pants,” spoke Wyn, as soon as speaking amounted to anything.
“Trousers,” amended Treble.
“Nor those,” objected Pell. “When they have cute little buckles and go with a jaunty cap——”
“They’re knickers,” finished Betta.
“Not a—tall,” shouted Treble. “I know better than that myself. You’re thinking of golf. Didn’t I see Lord Fauntleroy play his Dearest?”
“Did you really? Well, what did he call call them?” demanded Thistle. She had been so busy enjoying the fun that this was her first attempt at making any.
“I have it,” sang out Laddie. “They’re bloomers.”
“Oh no, rompers,” insisted Thistle. “Rompers are much prettier.”