"O, yes," said Lucy, "we truly must call on Dovey Sparrow. She has frizzly curls like Flaxie's, and she can play five tunes on the piano. But, Gussie, how do you make calls?"
"O," replied Miss Gussie, with a twinkle in her eye, "all sorts of ways. Sometimes we take our cards; but it isn't really necessary for little girls to do that. Then we just touch the lady's hand,—this way,—and talk about the weather; and, in three minutes or so, we go away."
"I've seen calls a great many times," said Flaxie Frizzle, thoughtfully. "I can make one if Lucy will go with me."
"I could make one better alone," said Lucy, in a very cutting tone. She was two years older than Flaxie, and always remembered it.
"I'll go wiv you, Flaxie, if Lucy doesn't," put in little Rose, the sweet wee sister; and then it was Flaxie's turn to be cutting, for as it happened she was just two years older than Rose.
"Poh," said she; "you can't do calls, a little speck of a thing like you! You don't grow so much in a year as my thumb grows in five minutes!"
Rose hid her blushing face in the rocking-chair.
"Do you truly think we'd better go, Gussie?" asked Lucy; for Gussie was laughing, and Lucy did not like to be made fun of, though she did make fun of Flaxie Frizzle.
"O, certainly," said Gussie, trying to look very sober; "don't I always say what I mean?"