“O, Tate, what you s’pose I care about your nose? Miss Parker was the most to blame. Only think, little things like us, in the Primary’s Department! And to send us off to freeze!”
“She’ll feel dreadfully to-morrow,” said Tate; “don’t you believe they’ll put it in the papers?”
“I see something black,” exclaimed Dotty, “it’s a boy!”
At that moment Enoch Rosenberg approached, his face almost hidden under a cloth cap and red comforter.
Dotty sprang upon him.
“O, Solly,” cried she, “Solly Rosenbug! Is your name Solomon? I know your brother’s is!”
“No; my name’s Enoch,” replied the tall youth. “There’s only one Solomon in the family. Is this the little Parlin girl? What are you doing down this way?”
“O, Solly, Solly,” gasped Dotty; and then her strength failed, and she sank at his feet.
Of course Tate did not keep up another second after that, but fell across Dotty with a smothered groan.