“Oh, mercy me! I can’t. Why, I’ve on my best dress,” she said, to tease him.
“Mamsie will let you have one of her aprons,” he cried, “or my nice Mrs. Higby will. I’ll go and ask her.”
“No, I’m going to; Mrs. Higby will let me have the aprons,” shouted Barby, turning her back on her father, in whose lap she had thrown herself, and rushing after him.
“We’re all in for it, I see,” said Pickering. “Well, King, you’re my boy, seeing the others have got champions. What do you want? I’ll see you through this candy scrape.”
“I’d rather have my brother Jasper,” said King, not over politely, “but I’ll take you.”
“O King!” remonstrated Phronsie gently.
“Let him alone, Phronsie,” said Pickering. “King is delicious when unadulterated. Well, my boy, so I’ll consider myself engaged to you for this evening at the party.”
“All right,” said King coolly.
“And Mrs. Higby says we can have all the aprons we want,” announced Elyot, rushing back.
“And she’ll boil the candy while we’re at dinner,” piped Barby, tumbling after.