“That was the name of a great painter,” said Mrs. White, again feeling how difficult it was to talk to a small and enterprising New York boy.
“Maybe,” admitted the little one, “but I have Raffle from the boys, and that’s all right. Means going off all the time.”
Everyone laughed. Raffle looked uneasily at the door.
“But where’s that kite?” questioned Ned.
“Talent was waiting until I got up. Then I was to pull him up. He has the kites.”
“As long as I didn’t kill you, Raffle,” said Tavia, “I guess we won’t have to have you arrested for false entering.”
“Dorothy caught the rope just in time,” Ned explained, in answer to his mother’s look of inquiry. “Tavia was so scared she was going to let it drop.”
“We had ordered things,” Tavia explained further, “and thought they were coming up. I was just crazy to have something to do with all the machines in the place, so went to get the things. Imagine me seeing something squirm in the dark!”
“But you weren’t afraid,” said Raffle to Dorothy. “You just hauled me out.”
“Your coat got torn,” Dorothy remarked to divert attention. “What will your mother say?”