CHAPTER II
"There are thirteen," repeated Dolly again. "Look, Max, begin at the side of the field nearest the gate—there are three close together, and then—oh dear, two have run back to the others, and—no, I can't count aloud, but I'm sure—" and she went on to herself, "one, two, three, four,"—"there are thirteen, I'm as sure as sure."
"And I'm as sure as sure, or surer than sure, that there are only twelve," said Max, aggravatingly.
"Master Max and Miss Dorothy, come to your tea," said nurse's voice from the table. "And it's getting chilly—the evenings aren't like the middle of the day—you mustn't stand at the windows any more. It's draughty, and it would never do for you to be getting stiff necks or swollen glands or anything like that on the top of all there's been."
The two came slowly to the tea-table, but their looks were not very amiable.
"You're so rude," said Dolly to her brother, "contradicting like that. I never saw anybody so persisting."
"How can you help persisting when you know you're right?" said Max. "I can't tell stories to please you."