"Will you wait for me and start fair?"
"Come on!" They obliqued across the street, still running forward, and
at their grandfather's gate Herbert turned in and sped toward the house.
"Take it around to the kitchen and give it to Kitty Silver," Florence
called. "Tell Kitty Silver to take care of it for you."
But Herbert was in no mind to follow her advice; a glance over his
shoulder showed that Florence was taking another unfair advantage of
him. "You wait!" he shouted. "You stand still till I get back there! You
got half a mile start a'ready! You wait till we can start even!"
But Florence was skipping lightly away and she caroled over her
shoulder, waving her hand in mocking farewell as she began to run:
"Ole Mister Slowpoke can't catch me!
Ole Mister Slowpoke couldn't catch a flea!"
"I'll show you!" he bellowed, and, not to lose more time, he dashed up
the steps of the deserted veranda, thrust his basket deep underneath a
wicker settee, and ran violently after his elusive cousin.
She kept a tantalizing distance between them, but when they reached the
fire it was such a grand one they forgot all their differences--and also
all about the basket.