“No, not exactly—just fun. I want you to bring a suit of your son Bob’s clothes up here. I’m going to dress myself in them, and when he comes with the gig let me drive them over. My riding-habit and pony can remain here till I send for them.”
“Now, Miss Pet—”
“Now, Mrs. Gudge, don’t bother me! Go, like a dear old soul. I’ll give you a kiss if you do.”
“But the judge—”
“Oh, the judge won’t know anything about it unless you tell him. There, be off! I want to be dressed before Bob comes. If you don’t hurry I’ll lose the most splendid joke ever was. Hurry now! Put Mr. Gudge up to it, so the cat won’t get out of the bag.”
With a deprecating shake of her head and upturning of her eyes, the little hostess bustled out, inwardly wondering what “Miss Pet would do next.”
Pet, in the meantime, with her wicked black eyes scintillating with the prospect of coming fun, was rapidly divesting herself of her hat and riding-habit. And then little Mrs. Gudge made her appearance with her son and heir’s “Sunday-go-to-meetin’s” and stayed to assist the fairy in her frolic, and find out who the handsome owner of the “mustarchers” was. But Pet was as close as a clam, and only laughed at the landlady’s “pumping,” while she dived desperately into Bob’s pants and coat, which—except being narrow where Pet thought they ought to be wide, and wide where they ought to be narrow, fitted her very well. Then she combed her short, dancing, black curls to one side, over her round, boyish forehead, and setting upon them a jaunty Scotch cap, stood there, bright, saucy, and smiling, as handsome and dashing a little fellow as you could see in a long summer-day.
“Well, laws! you do make a pretty boy and no mistake, Miss Pet,” said the woman, admiringly; “them handsome eyes of yours and shaking, shining curls is jest the thing! But your hands—they’re a heap too small and deliky-looking for a boy’s.”
“Oh! well, I’ll rub some mud on them when I get out. They’re not the whitest in the world anyway; and besides, they won’t look very closely at a little cab-boy’s hands.”
“Now, if you want to be like a boy, you must take long steps, and stick your hands in your pockets, and swear. Can you swear, Miss Pet?” said the woman, seriously.