Now, you needn't ask what's up, for I don't intend
to tell you."
"Pshaw! who cares about your pouts? Not I, anyway," was the reply, in a
high and mighty tone. "Come along, if you're coming, and if you're not,
then stay home. I can't wait, for I want to see what is in the box for me."
This unceremonious manner of treatment made Dexie come down somewhat from
the pedestal of injured greatness, and she forced herself to talk to Elsie
to keep her waiting, while she made a fresh toilet.
"Now, do I look a fright?" Dexie asked, as she prepared to follow Elsie
downstairs.
"Well, I can't say that you look much worse than usual, but you certainly
don't look any better. Your nose looks swelled. Shouldn't wonder if you had
it tweaked; but, then, what odds how it looks? Hurry up, and come along. We
have apple dumplings for dinner to-day. Do you like milk or sauce on them
best?"
Dexie did not answer; something of more consequence than dumplings was
troubling her just then, and as she followed Elsie into the front hall, she
was tenderly feeling her nose and mentally comparing it with its usual
proportions, inwardly calling herself all sorts of hard names for being so
silly.
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