The Third Year

3

Mr. Grand was a good sort of man in his own fashion, but Anne had
long ago found out that he must be handled with gloves. Moreover,
Anne was very anxious to get him on her side in a battle royal over
new equipment that was looming up. She went out to the twins.

"Darlings, will you play nicely out in the back yard while I have a
little talk with Mr. Grand? I won't be very long . . . and then
we'll have an afternoon-tea picnic on the banks of the pond . . .
and I'll teach you to blow soap-bubbles with red dye in them . . .
the loveliest things!"

"Will you give us a quarter apiece if we behave?" demanded Gerald.

"No, Gerald dear," said Anne firmly, "I'm not going to bribe you.
I know you are going to be good, just because I ask you, as a
gentleman should."

"We'll be good, Miss Shirley," promised Gerald solemnly.

"Awful good," echoed Geraldine, with equal solemnity.

It is possible they would have kept their promise if Ivy Trent had
not arrived almost as soon as Anne was closeted with Mr. Grand in
the parlor. But Ivy Trent did arrive and the Raymond twins hated
Ivy Trent . . . the impeccable Ivy Trent who never did anything
wrong and always looked as if she had just stepped out of a band-
box.

On this particular afternoon there was no doubt that Ivy Trent had
come over to show off her beautiful new brown boots and her sash
and shoulder bows and hair bows of scarlet ribbon. Mrs. Raymond,
whatever she lacked in some respects, had fairly sensible ideas
about dressing children. Her charitable neighbors said she put so
much money on herself that she had none to spend on the twins . . .
and Geraldine never had a chance to parade the street in the style
of Ivy Trent, who had a dress for every afternoon in the week.
Mrs. Trent always arrayed her in "spotless white." At least. Ivy
was always spotless when she left home. If she were not quite so
spotless when she returned that, of course, was the fault of the
" jealous" children with whom the neighborhood abounded.

Geraldine was jealous. She longed for scarlet sash and shoulder
bows and white embroidered dresses. What would she not have given
for buttoned brown boots like those?

"How do you like my new sash and shoulder bows?" asked Ivy proudly.

"How do you like my new sash and shoulder bows?" mimicked Geraldine
tauntingly.

"But you haven't got shoulder bows," said Ivy grandly.

"But you haven't got shoulder bows," squeaked Geraldine.

Ivy looked puzzled.

"I have so. Can't you see them?"

"I have so. Can't you see them?" mocked Geraldine, very happy in
this brilliant idea of repeating everything Ivy said scornfully.

"They ain't paid for," said Gerald.

Ivy Trent had a temper. It showed itself in her face, which grew
as red as her shoulder bows.

"They are, too. My mother always pays her bills."

"My mother always pays her bills," chanted Geraldine.

Ivy was uncomfortable. She didn't know exactly how to cope with
this. So she turned to Gerald, who was undoubtedly the handsomest
boy on the street. Ivy had made up her mind about him.

"I came over to tell you I'm going to have you for my beau," she
said, looking eloquently at him out of a pair of brown eyes that,
even at seven, Ivy had learned had a devastating effect on most of
the small boys of her acquaintance.

Gerald turned crimson.

"I won't be your beau," he said.

"But you've got to be," said Ivy serenely.

"But you've got to be," said Geraldine, wagging her head at him.

"I won't be," shouted Gerald furiously. "And don't you give me any
more of your lip, Ivy Trent."

"You have to be," said Ivy stubbornly.

"You have to be," said Geraldine.

Ivy glared at her.

"You just shut up, Geraldine Raymond!"

"I guess I can talk in my own yard," said Geraldine.

"'Course she can," said Gerald. "And if you don't shut up, Ivy
Trent, I'll just go over to your place and dig the eyes out of your
doll."

"My mother would spank you if you did," cried Ivy.

"Oh, she would, would she? Well, do you know what my mother would
do to her if she did? She'd just sock her on the nose."

"Well, anyway, you've got to be my beau," said Ivy, returning
calmly to the vital subject.

"I'll . . . I'll duck your head in the rain-barrel," yelled the
maddened Gerald . . . "I'll rub your face in an ant's nest . . .
I'll . . . I'll tear them bows and sash off you . . ." triumphantly,
for this at least was feasible.

"Let's do it," squealed Geraldine.

They pounced like furies on the unfortunate Ivy, who kicked and
shrieked and tried to bite but was no match for the two of them.
Together they hauled her across the yard and into the woodshed,
where her howls could not be heard.

"Hurry," gasped Geraldine, "'fore Miss Shirley comes out."

No time was to be lost. Gerald held Ivy's legs while Geraldine
held her wrists with one hand and tore off her hair bow and
shoulder bows and sash with the other.

"Let's paint her legs," shouted Gerald, his eyes falling on a
couple of cans of paint left there by some workmen the previous
week. "I'll hold her and you paint her."

Ivy shrieked vainly in despair. Her stockings were pulled down and
in a few moments her legs were adorned with wide stripes of red and
green paint. In the process a good deal of the paint got spattered
over her embroidered dress and new boots. As a finishing touch
they filled her curls with burrs.

She was a pitiful sight when they finally released her. The twins
howled mirthfully as they looked at her. Long weeks of airs and
condescensions from Ivy had been avenged.

"Now you go home," said Gerald. "This'll teach you to go 'round
telling people they have to be your beaus."

"I'll tell my mother," wept Ivy. "I'll go straight home and tell
my mother on you, you horrid, horrid, hateful, ugly boy!"

"Don't you call my brother ugly, you stuck-up thing," cried
Geraldine. "You and your shoulder bows! Here, take them with you.
We don't want them cluttering up our woodshed."

Ivy, pursued by the bows, which Geraldine pelted after her, ran
sobbing out of the yard and down the street.

"Quick . . . let's sneak up the back stairs to the bathroom and
clean up 'fore Miss Shirley sees us," gasped Geraldine.