warm enough. I don't believe you. Now, Richard, how
perfectly ridiculous! There is no left or right to stockings. You have
no time to change. Shoes are a different thing. Well, hurry up, then.
Because they are made so, I suppose. I don't know why.

"Brush it more on that side--no, you can't go to the barbers. You went
last week. It looks perfectly well. I cut it? Why, I don't know how to
trim hair. Anyway, there isn't time now. It will have to do. Stop your
scowling for goodness' sake, Dick. Have you a handkerchief? It makes
no difference, you must carry one. You _ought_ to want to use it. Well,
you should. Yes, they always do, whether they have colds or not. I
don't know why.

"Your Golden Text! The idea! No, you cannot. You can learn that Sunday
before church. This is not the time to learn Golden Texts. I never saw
such a child. Now take your pumps and find the plush bag. Why not? Put
them right with Ruth's. That's what the bag was made for. Well, how
do you want to carry them? Why, I never heard of anything so silly!
You will knot the strings. I don't care if they do carry skates that
way--skates are not slippers. You'd lose them. Very well, then, only
hurry up. I should think you'd be ashamed to have them dangling around
your neck that way. Because people never _do_ carry them so. I don't
know why.

"Now, here's your coat. Well, I can't help it, you have no time to hunt
for them. Put your hands in your pockets--it's not far. And mind, don't
run for Ruth every time. You don't take any pains with her, and you
hustle her about, Miss Dorothy says. Take another little girl. Yes,
you must. I shall speak to your father if you answer me in that way,
Richard. Men don't dance with their sisters. Because they don't. I don't
know why."

He slammed the door till the piazza shook, and strode along beside his
scandalized sister, the pumps flopping noisily on his shoulders. She
tripped along contentedly--she liked to go. The personality capable of
extracting pleasure from the hour before them baffled his comprehension,
and he scowled fiercely at her, rubbing his silk stockings together at
every step, to enjoy the strange smooth sensation thus produced. This
gave him a bow-legged gait that distressed his sister beyond words.

"I think you might stop. Everybody's looking at you! Please stop, Dick
Pendleton; you're a mean old thing. I should think you'd be ashamed to
carry your slippers that way. If you jump in that wet place an