The two girls laughed merrily. “Betty, what if you hadn’t been a dear, and had called him that! And he’s so very correct!”
“Oh, is he? Then I’ll try it to-morrow and we’ll see what he’ll do.”
“Don’t you dare! I’d be so ashamed I’d sink right through the floor. He’d think we’d been making fun of him.”
“Then I’ll wait until we are out in the woods, for I’d hate to have you make a hole in the floor by sinking through it.”
“Betty! You’ll be good to-morrow, won’t you, dear?”
“Good? Am I not always good? Didn’t I scrub and 114 bake and put flowers all over the ugly what-not in the corner of the parlor, and get the grease spot out of the dining room rug that Jamie stepped butter into––and all for you––without any thought of any Mr. Tubfull or any one but you? All day long I’ve been doing it.”
“Of course you did, and it was perfectly sweet; and the flowers and mother looked so dear––and Janey’s hands were clean––I looked to see. You know usually they are so dirty. I knew you’d been busy; but Betty, dear, you won’t be mischievous to-morrow, will you? He’s our guest, you know, and you never were bashful, not as much as you really ought to be, and we can’t treat strangers just as we do––well––people we have always known, like Peter Junior. They wouldn’t understand it.”
But the admonition seemed to be lost, for Betty’s thoughts were wandering from the point. “Hasn’t he ever––ever––made love to you?” Martha was washing her face and neck at the washstand in the corner, and now she turned a face very rosy, possibly with scrubbing, and threw water over her naughty little sister. “Well, hasn’t he ever put his arm around you or––or anything?”
“I wouldn’t let a man do that.”
“Not if you were engaged?”