He was lonesome and the
prospect of companionship was too alluring for him to nurse
his anger longer.
"Aunt Minerva's gone to the Aid Society," remarked the
host. "Don't y' all wish it met ev'y day 'stid 'er jes'
meetin' ev'y Monday?"
"Yes, I do," agreed Frances, "you can have so much fun when
our mamas go to the Aid. My mama's gone too, so she left me
with Brother and he's writing a love letter to Ruth Shelton, so
I slipped off."
"Mother has gone to the Aid, too," said Lina.
"My mama too," chimed in Jimmy, "she goes to the Aid every
Monday and to card parties nearly all the time. She telled
Sarah Jane to 'tend to me and Sarah Jane's asleep. I hear
her snoring. Ain't we glad there ain't no grown folks to
meddle? Can't we have fun?"
"What'll we play?" asked Frances, who had deliberately
stepped in a mud puddle on the way, and splashed mud all
over herself, "let's make mud pies."
"Naw, we ain't a-going to make no mud pies," objected Jimmy.
"We can make mud pies all time when grown folks 'r' looking
at you.
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