They stared at each other in mutual amazement at the conception of a whole jumpless school.
"I wouldn't be going!" cried Scotty firmly. "I'd jump—I'd jump out of the window an' run away, whatever!"
Her eyes sparkled. "Oh, p'raps I could do that too! I'd run away an' come to Kirsty. She doesn't mind if I jump an' make a noise, an' Kirsty never makes me sew. Oh, Scotty, you don't ever have to sew, do you?"
"Noh!" cried Scotty in disdain, "that's girls' work."
She sighed deeply. "I wish I was a boy! Harold never has to sew, but Harold goes to school 'way in Toronto all the time an' maybe they don't let him jump there. I'd jump!" she cried, springing from the log and laughing joyously, "oh, wouldn't I! Last tag, Scotty!" and she was once more off into the woods and Scotty after her.
Such a happy day as it was, but it was over at last, and after they had eaten their supper, where Kirsty served it to them in their playhouse, Scotty went to the house to bid the old woman good-bye, and started for home.
The little girl followed him sadly and slowly to the edge of the clearing.
"When'll you come back again?" she asked pleadingly.
"I'll not know," said Scotty patronisingly, "I don't often play with girls."
The blue sunbonnet drooped; its owner's assurance and independence had all vanished. "You might come next Saturday," she suggested humbly.