“Indeed, you're not,” declared Alexia stoutly. “Why, I always walk with Polly Pepper.”
“And that's just the reason why I'm going to to-day,” said Clem, hanging to Polly's arm for dear life.
“Well, I'm her dearest friend,” added Alexia, taking refuge in that well-worn statement, “so there now, Clem Forsythe.”
“No, you're not,” said Clem obstinately; “we're all her dearest friends, aren't we, Polly? Say, Polly, aren't we?”
“Hush!” said Jasper. “Father's coming.”
“Well, I can't help it. I'm tired of hearing Alexia Rhys everlastingly saying that, and pushing us all away from Polly.”
“Do hear them go on!” exclaimed Tom Beresford, off on the edge of the group. “Does she always have them carrying around like that?”
“Yes,” said Joel, “a great deal worse. Oh, they're a lot of giggling girls; I hate girls!” he exploded.
“So do I,” nodded Tom. “Let's keep clear of the whole lot, and walk by ourselves.”
“Indeed, we will,” declared Joel. “You won't catch me walking with girls when I can help it.”