of no uncertain color—was Mollie's temper—at times.
"Yes, you did!" insisted Grace. "Don't you remember? It was one with a cherry inside, and we both wanted it, and"
"You got it!" declared Mollie. "If you say I took it"
"That's right, Grace, you did have it," said gentle Amy. "Don't you recall, you held it in one hand behind your back and told Billy to choose?" Billy was Mollie's "chummy" name.
"That's so," admitted Grace. "And Mollie didn't guess right. I beg your pardon, Mollie. It's so warm, and the prickly heat bothers me so that I can hardly think of anything but that I'm going in and get some talcum powder. I've got some of the loveliest scent—the Yamma-yamma flower from Japan."
"It sounds nice," murmured Betty. "But, girls"
"Excuse me," murmured Grace, making a struggle to arise from the hammock—never a graceful feat for girl or woman.
"Don't! You'll spill me!" screamed Betty, clutching at the yielding sides of the net. "Grace! There!"
There would have been a "spill" except that Amy caught the swaying hammock and held it
