"I live right here, where I could look after it," said Margery, bringing the discussion from abstract views on suitability to the personal application they were all secretly making.
"That's the very reason why you shouldn't be postmistress!" cried peace-loving Amy, ruffling her feathers. "You shouldn't have everything."
"Oh, you're no good for it, Peggy!" said Jack, with easy scorn. "It needs a boy, and I'm the only boy; so of course I've got to be postmaster."
"Well, I like that," cried Trix, with eyes flashing like a whole woman's-rights convention in one small body. "Every one knows girls are heaps quicker and smarter than boys. I'd be a better postmaster than any of you, if I do say so."
"You! You're too harum-scarum; you'd lose half the mail!" cried Amy. "I'd be a much better one, and you know it."
"Well, I'd not lose the mail!" said Trix, trembling and stammering in indignation. "You think I'm harum-scarum because you're such a poke."
"Well, there's no good you girls fighting about it, because I'm the boy, and I'm going to be postmaster!" remarked Jack, with such maddening certainty that the girls turned on him in a body.
"You'll be nothing of the sort!" screamed Trix, stamping her foot.
"You won't touch my letters!" cried Amy.