“That’s right, Frank,” said Joe, “come on; we’ll have a game of marbles. I ain’t too big to play with a little fellow, are you, Will?”
Joe was eight and Willie seven years old, and though Frankie was but six, he felt quite as large in his new pants and jacket, as either of them; so he said, with an odd little air of dignity, “I ain’t a little fellow, and I don’t want to play marbles.”
“Of course not,” said Willie, “or you’d wear dresses. I did. I can just remember.”
“He had a dress on yesterday, and a sun-bonnet,” Ben said, with a provoking laugh. “He’s growed a lot since then.”
“Stop laughing at me, Ben Field. Do you see my copper toes,” and one of the new boots was thrust threateningly through the fence.
“Never mind him, Frank,” said good-natured Joe. “Come on, boys, let’s go to the creek and wade.”
“Don’t you want to go too?” asked Willie, seeing Frankie’s wistful look at the mention of the creek.
“Oh yes!” he exclaimed, delightedly. “Just wait a minute till I ask mamma;” and off he ran, tumbling down two or three times, and rushing into the house like a small hurricane. Not in the kitchen, nor the sitting-room; “Where is mamma?” he said to himself impatiently. At last he opened the parlor door and found her there, fast asleep on the sofa. “Oh dear!” he thought, discontentedly. “Mamma never’ll let me wake her up, an’ the boys won’t wait, an’ I can’t go.” With a sad face he went back to the gate. “I can’t go. Mamma’s asleep.” He put his hands in his pockets, winked his eyes very fast, and began to whistle. All this to keep from crying, and disgracing his new pants by acting like a girl.
“I don’t believe your mother’ll care one bit. Just to walk to the creek,” said Joe.
“No, of course she won’t,” added Will. “Take off your boots and go barefoot like us boys.”