"I don't like you," said he, in a rage.

"You are a naughty boy," said she, crossly.

"I shall never speak to you again."

"I shall never play with you any more."

"I don't care."

"And I don't care."

"I shall tell of you."

"All right. I shall tell of you."

"Nasty mean thing to threaten."

"You threatened first."

"Nasty, disagreeable thing."

"Ugly, unkind boy." Then they turned back to back, and stood sulking. He put his hands into his pockets, and she sucked her finger.

"That's the worst of a girl," thought he; "I shan't give in."

"I can't bear boys," thought she; "and I won't make it up to-day."

"We might have had good fun all this afternoon if she hadn't been so silly," he thought presently.

"It would have been so nice if he hadn't been disagreeable," she thought after a bit. Then he began to fidget and to kick the floor a little with one foot, and she began to cry and to wipe her tears away very softly and quickly, so that he might not see them.