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And, all of a sudden, they had become young ladies while he was still a boy. "I wish Nell would come back with my duds," he grumbled. "I have a good mind to walk home in these things of the miller's." "And be taken for an animated scarecrow on the way?" laughed Ruth. "Better 'bide a wee, Tommy. Sister will get here with your rompers pretty soon. Have patience."
She had only seen him once in her life a child in dirty rompers. She left him with the newspaper while she prepared dinner she had four chops to-night and some late vegetables from her own garden. She put it all on and then called him, and sitting down together they continued their talk about George. "If I had a child " she would say.
"I tried to make him look respectable this morning," complained Mrs. Cromwell as one whose patience had been sorely tried, "and I found he didn't have any more rompers so rather than have him go round without any I put him back in those and his face " "How many pairs has he?" Roxanne's voice was pleasantly curious, "How many feather fans have you?" she might have asked. "Oh, " Mrs.
He had picked up his hat, which still had a little of the paste in it, and this was now dripping down the front of his rompers. "Well, it's clean dirt, not like the time he was stuck in the mud of the brook at home, that's one consolation," said Nora at last. Nora had a good habit of trying to make the best of everything. "Yes, it's clean dirt and it will wash off," agreed Mother Martin.
Finally we end up on the big davenport in front of the fireplace and indulge in a few minutes of lively chat. "Well, 'Ikky-boy, how you and Buddy been behavin' yourselves, eh?" I'll ask. "Which has been the worst cut-up today, eh?" "Buddy bad dog," he'll say, battin' him over the head with a pink fist. "See?" And he'll exhibit a tear in his rompers or a chewed sleeve. "Huh!
She wore her pink rompers, and as she bobbed along she was like a mammoth rose-petal blown by the wind. At the foot of the hill she came upon a little brown stream. It was just a thread of a stream, very shallow with a lot of big flat stones. Fiddle walked straight into it, and the clear water swept over her toes. She put in her little fish, and quite unexpectedly, they swam away.
Rilla spent an hour in Rainbow Valley that morning about which she never said a word to anyone; she did not even write in her diary about it; when it was over she went home and made rompers for Jims. In the evening she went to a Junior Red Cross committee meeting and was severely businesslike.
Little Boy Blue was arrayed in blue rompers, cunningly made of one piece, and very ample. It seemed that they had long resided close to each other, and had often played together; and now, almost without any pre-arrangement at all, they began a game which consisted of singing and dancing.
"Wot d'ye call wot he's got on 'um, anyway?" The speaker was a male, naturally. "W'y, you big stoopid, can't you see he's wearin' rompers?" The answer came in a giggle, from a gay youthful creature of the opposite sex as she kicked out roguishly. "Well, then be chee, w'y don't he romp a little?" "Give 'um time, cancher? Don't you see he's blowin' out his flues? He's busy now.
And so he had, catching Baby William by the seat of his rompers and pulling him back on the seat from which he had quickly sprung up. "What were you trying to do?" asked Mrs. Martin. "Trouble want to catch fish," was the little fellow's answer. "Yes! I guess a fish would catch you first!" laughed Ted.
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