Johnny had heard every word. Suddenly he arose to action and knocked down Lee Westminster, and sat on him.
“Lemme up!” said Lee.
Johnny had no quarrel whatever with Lee. He grinned, but he sat still. Lee, the sat-upon, was a sharp little boy. “Showing off before the gals!” he said, in a thin whisper.
“Hush up!” returned Johnny.
“Will you give me a writing-pad—I lost mine, and mother said I couldn't have another for a week if I did—if I don't holler?” inquired Lee.
“Yes. Hush up!”
Lee lay still, and Johnny continued to sit upon his prostrate form. Both were out of sight of Madame's windows, behind a clump of the cedars which graced her lawn.
“Always fighting,” said Lily, with a fine crescendo of scorn. She lifted her chin high, and also her nose.
“Always fighting,” said Amelia, and also lifted her chin and nose. Amelia was a born mimic. She actually looked like Lily, and she spoke like her.
Then Lily did a wonderful thing. She doubled her soft little arm into an inviting loop for Amelia's little claw of a hand.