“No, indeed!” said Johnny, warmly, “I hope I’m not such a great bear as all that! But it was a jolly thing for the dear little soul to do, and I’ll not forget it.”
“Would you like me to read to you again, dear?” asked his mother, when she had put the finishing touches to Tiny’s dress, and seen her off.
“No, Mrs. Mother, thank you,” said Johnny, stoutly, “I am going to read to myself, and you are going upstairs to lie down for at least an hour. You’re making your back ache face, and if you don’t lie down I’ll not eat one single doughnut or gingerbread—so there!”
“I couldn’t stand that, of course,” said his mother, laughing, and kissing him, “and I find my back does ache, now you mention it, so I will take you at your word, my own true knight!”
If they had been looking out of the window just then, they would have seen a bright-faced little girl running up the walk, and before Mrs. Leslie had started upon her upward journey the door-bell rang, and there was Johnny’s especial friend, Kitty McKee, with a little basket of rosy apples, and permission to spend the afternoon, “if it would be convenient.”
To say that Johnny was glad to see her but faintly expresses his feelings. She was a year or two older than he was, and he considered her friendship for him a flattering thing. She played checkers so well that his occasional victories over her were triumphs indeed, and, what was better still, she never lost her temper with her game. So, after performing a war dance around her while she took off her cloak and hood, Johnny rushed for the checker-board, and Mrs. Leslie, with an easy mind and a tired body, went upstairs for a delightful nap.
Johnny took a white checker in one hand, and a black one in the other, mixed them up under the table, and held up his hand, asking,—
“Which’ll you have?”
“Right,” said Kitty, and, as it happened, that gave Johnny the first move.