“The old lady down the road said that this was the house where they had a victrola——” she started to say—and stopped in dismay over the effect of her words; Vicky flew into a temper and began to cry.
“I want you to go away from here—coming to make fun of me!” she sobbed, stamping her foot at them. Before they could answer she ran out of the room, leaving them staring at each other in surprise.
“Well, what on earth?” Winona slowly ejaculated.
“Goodness only knows,” said Louise. “Anyway, I seem to feel that she doesn’t want to sell it to us.”
“Well, no,” assented Helen, and the three of them thoughtfully and slowly let themselves out at the door they had come in by.
They had gone only a little way back when they heard flying feet behind them.
“Wait a minute,” panted Vicky, catching up to them. “I guess—perhaps—I’d better explain. I’m sorry I got mad. But—but my name’s Victrola!” She flushed painfully. Evidently it was hard for her to tell. “I thought you were just making fun of me, but I thought about it, and I guess you weren’t. I know the place you want—it’s a little further, up the next lane.”
She started to run back, but Winona caught her hand and held her.
“Why, you poor dear!” she said. “I don’t see why you mind. It’s a very pretty name. But we weren’t trying to make fun of you. We really want to buy a phonograph for the camp.”
“They laugh at me—everybody does,” faltered Vicky. “They were this morning—the boys down by the landing. That’s why I was so cross. They pretend to wind me up, and—and I hate it!”