The luckless Terry had aroused her ire on a recent visit by too free lovemaking, and had gotten in return a tingling cheek from a rough contact with a little white hand.
“Don’t you ever dare kiss me again against my will, you brute!” she had stormed, rubbing her offended lips till they burned in her rage to be rid of the hated caress.
Bitterly had the twins resented their brother’s repulse, cruelly had they punished her, working through Cousin Tabby, for her daring.
They darted angry looks at her now, and Patty taunted sharply:
“You ought to be grateful to Terry for life. He’s the only fool I ever saw that wanted to be your lover.”
“I should have had dozens before now if you three jealous old maids had not kept me from the chance of knowing any young men,” retorted Eva maliciously, adding, with keen triumph: “But I have a splendid lover, in spite of all your arts.”
“Bah, you are fibbing, Miss Vanity,” cried Lydia mockingly, but at the same moment she made a rush behind Eva’s chair and pinioned her arms to her side, shouting gayly to her sister:
“Snatch the letter, and see who wrote it.”
There was a sharp little scuffle, and Patty came off victor, seizing the letter and springing upon the kitchen table.
Lydia cheered her on: