"Oh, that's nice!" exclaimed Vinnie.
"No, it isn't," said Gussie. "It isn't nice at all to be born on the 23d of December, for then it's so near Christmas that nobody takes any notice of it."
"But you could have a party."
"We don't have parties at our house, you know," said Gussie, with a change of tone which reminded Vinnie that Mrs. Turner was a nervous invalid, and had to be kept quiet and as free as possible from every annoyance.
Gussie Turner when out-of-doors was an entirely different creature from what she was when in the house, and those who called her a "tomboy" and "hoyden" should have seen her when officiating as head nurse at her mother's bedside. She had a great flow of animal spirits, and was naturally the leader in all out-door sports, which kept her from being cross and cranky. Besides, she had a taste for reading, and was as interested in her brother Tad's adventures as any girl could expect to be, and went fishing or boating with him whenever she could get a chance.
Tad said she was "as good as a boy," which was a very great compliment, I can tell you, and Gussie was better skilled in boys' sports than she was in girls', because she had no sisters to play with. Parties she had no fondness for; they were stupid affairs at best, and she never had been to one that she did not feel as if all her clothes were made of whalebone.
"I'd like a lawn party," she said to Vinnie. "They must be nice."
"What are they like?"
"Oh, I don't know! There's never been one here," said Gussie, "but I've read about them. They're all out-doors. Splendid for summer."
"I should think so," said Vinnie. "But—"