“That’s my little sister Daisy,” said Molly. “We think she’s quite adorable. I’m sorry you don’t like her.”
“I prefer older people,” replied Archie, with his most grown-up air, and then, catching sight of the tea-tray, he added in quite a different tone:
“I say that cake looks good. Can a fellow have some?”
“To be sure,” laughed Molly. “Come up and meet my friends. This is my cousin Mr. Cranston, and this other young man is Mr. Fairfax. These girls are Geraldine Barlow, Kitty Sharp, and Gretel Schiller. You’ve met Geraldine and Kitty already, but I don’t think you’ve seen Gretel before.”
Archie had reached the top of the piazza steps by this time, but at the mention of Gretel’s name, he suddenly drew back and thrust both hands into his pockets.
“That’s the German girl,” he announced in his shrill, aggressive voice. “I don’t speak to Germans. Ada told me you had one here, and I said I wouldn’t speak to her.”
“You little cad!” exclaimed Stephen, angrily; “you deserve a good thrashing, and I’d like to give it to you!”
He half rose from his chair as he spoke, but Gretel put out a detaining hand.
“Please don’t make a fuss,” she said in a low voice. “He’s only a little boy, and—and I’m afraid a good many people feel that way about Germans.”
“Archie, you are a very naughty boy,” expostulated Ada. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you can’t be a gentleman, you had better go back to the rabbits.”