“You ought to give them lessons in Delsarte, Pauline.”
Molly and Pauline had again come around to the enclosed balcony, where Weezy stood at an open window gazing out.
“The little fairy queen hasn’t the least idea who we are,” whispered Pauline triumphantly; “nobody has but your mother. Take longer steps, Miss California, or your papa will know you by the way you walk.”
“And your papa’ll know you, Miss Liberty Cap, by the way you swing your arms.”
“No, he shan’t. I’ll hold them as stiff as Indian clubs.”
“That’s a dear; and I’ll march like a colonel. You needn’t be afraid of my giving us away, Polly.”
“Unless you spoil everything by giggling, Miss California. You’re such a girl to giggle!”
Pauline was giggling herself, but so softly that no one in the sun parlor was the wiser; no, not even Lady Washington, who sat only a few feet from the pavement.
“What makes them press back upon us so?” said Molly, suddenly stopped by the crowd in front. “Stretch your neck, Miss Stars-and-Stripes.”
