“Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn’t you come to Sunday-school?”

“I did come⁠—didn’t you see me?”

“Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?”

“I was in Miss Peters’ class, where I always go. I saw you .”

“Did you? Why, it’s funny I didn’t see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic.”

“Oh, that’s jolly. Who’s going to give it?”

“My ma’s going to let me have one.”

“Oh, goody; I hope she’ll let me come.”

“Well, she will. The picnic’s for me. She’ll let anybody come that I want, and I want you.”