"Oh, but they must fight, you know," explained Geraldine earnestly. "If we didn't fight, we'd really be what you call us. Put on Scott's clothes, Naïda, and while our brothers are fighting, you and I will wrestle to prove that I'm not a mollycoddle——"
"I don't want to," said Naïda tremulously. "I like you, too——"
"Well, you're one if you don't!" retorted Geraldine. "You can like anybody and have fun fighting them, too."
"Put on those clothes, Naïda," said Duane sternly. "Are you going to take a dare?"
So she retired very unwillingly into the hedge to costume herself while the two boys invested their fists with the soft chamois gloves of combat.
"We won't bother to shake hands," observed Scott. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, you will, too," insisted Geraldine; "shake hands before you begin to fight!"
"I won't," retorted Scott sullenly; "shake hands with anybody who calls me—what he did."
"Very well then; if you don't, I'll put on those gloves and fight you myself."
Duane's eyes flew wide open and he gazed upon Geraldine with newly mixed emotions. She walked over to her brother and said: