"It's lovely. We call you something else."
"Who's we?"
"Aunt Ruth and I."
"What do you call me?"
"Flibbertigibbet."
"Git off!" cried Flibbertigibbet, recklessly shoving Freckles on to the floor. "Gee, how'd she know!" And thereupon she jumped to her feet and, having the broad window sill to herself, started upon a rather restricted coon dance in order to prove to her opposite neighbor that the nickname belonged to her by good right. Oh, but it was fun for the Marchioness! She clapped her hands to show her approval and catching up the skirt of her dainty white frock, slowly raised one leg at a right angle to her body and stood so for a moment, to the intense admiration of the other girls.
"That's what they call me here," said Flibbertigibbet when they got down to conversation again.
"What is hers?" asked the Marchioness, pointing to Freckles.
"Margaret O'Dowd, but we call her Freckles."
How the Marchioness laughed! So hard, indeed, that she apparently tumbled off the seat, for she disappeared entirely for several minutes, much to the girls' amazement as well as chagrin.