As they were walking along, a collie came bounding up to Silky, and then to Marjory, wagging his tail, as if delighted to see her.
"That's the Morisons' dog," she said; "the boys must be home. Perhaps they're coming to the pond too."
"Oh, bother," said Blanche; "it won't be a bit nice having strange boys there while I'm learning. I don't like boys much, they are so rough and rude. I do hope they won't stay all day on the pond."
Marjory stole a glance behind. Sure enough there was a boy, but only one, coming along the road.
"It's Alan Morison, the youngest one, all by himself, and he's got skates," she said, making a grimace at Blanche as she imparted the information.
"Well, of course he has as much right on the pond as we have, and it's horrid of me not to want him, but I don't. What is he like?"
"I haven't spoken to him much. He doesn't care for girls, and neither does his brother; they both said so. They generally call out rude remarks after me. They think all girls are silly."
"Well, we don't want them to like us, I'm sure," replied Blanche; "we can do quite well without them; and these ones sound horrid from your description."
Marjory, afraid she had said too much in disparagement of the boys, hastened to say, "Oh, I don't suppose they would be rude to you; but they've known me ever since I was a baby, you see."
Footsteps could be heard behind them now, and very soon a mocking voice called, "Carrots, Car-rots." At first the girls took no notice, walking along in their most dignified manner; but when the boy came quite close and deliberately shouted "Carrots" into Blanche's ear, Marjory turned upon him like a fury, crying, "Don't you dare to say that again, or I'll knock you down."