"A lovely dream!" snorted Robert.
"Yes, a lovely dream, and I told it to Bill—and see what he did. He threw things at the boys, and the boys laughed, and he won't ever speak to me again."
"But what did you say?" urged Alice.
"All I said was what I dreamed, and it was like this: it was a very short dream. I dreamed we had a Christmas party, and you were there, and Father was there, and Grandma was there, and Jamie was there, and Robert was there, and lots of children were there—and there was Holly and Mistletoe, and I forgot, Bill was there. I said to Bill, 'Oh, see the lovely mistletoe!' And then we kissed each other, and that was all the dream."
Tears again overcame her. "And then—then he threw me against the fence!"
"You see!" Robert cried. "You see! Is that the kind of thing to say to any feller? A feller don't want to be kissed by a girl!"
"I didn't kiss him—I just dreamed about it, and it was only a play kiss, like it is Christmas time," cried Sara.
"And what did you say to him, sticking your finger in your mouth like a fool? You said, 'Now will you tell me the name of Uncle Zotsby's dog!' As if she'd done something to be proud of."
From the depths of her ignorance, Alice said, "Still I see no reason for Bill having been so rude to Sara."
For once Robert strove for speech.
"How'd you like it if everybody laughed at you? How'd you like it if everybody called you 'Mistletoe,' and you was a little feller and couldn't fight more'n a feller your own size? How'd you like it to be me, and have them all making fun of me on account of her talking like such a simp?"
Before this logic Alice gave way. Sara had offended
