"It was good of Mary to bake them for us," said May, secretly thinking that hot muffins and marmalade were sovereign aids to happiness, though she did not dare to say so to Gay.
"Well, let's hurry up," said Gay, darting, with the swiftness of a swallow, into his room.
May was more deliberate in her movements, or, rather, her method of making her toilet differed somewhat from her brother's. With May, a bath was a preliminary operation; with Gay, it came last and could scarcely be called a bath at all, since he simply dipped his face and hands in the basin, and ignored the tub altogether, except upon such occasions as Jane enforced a thorough scrubbing. Family statistics show this dislike to soap and water to be a chronic ailment among boys from seven to fourteen years of age, but Gay always explained it by saying he was "rushed for time."
May was just pattering in from the bath-room when Gay emerged from his room fully dressed—more fully dressed, in fact, than he had been for a number of years.
"Why, Gay Walcott, you've got on my clothes!" May cried.
"I know it," replied Gay, piroueting airily around the room. "Jane must be crazy; she put your clothes in my room."
May ran into her room. "And yours in here," said she. "Come and get them, and give me mine."
"Try on mine—just for fun," urged Gay. "We'll see if Jane can tell the difference—which is which."
"There isn't time," objected May, rather faintly.
"There's lots of time," said Gay, who was never "rushed" when there was a chance for a prank.