But Peter, unawed, went on:

"I know, grandpa--but she's such a funny little dingbat! And now,
that she's turned pious--"

Grandpa interrupted him with a gesture of the hand.

"I said that'd do, Peter. If you'd find some time to attend prayers
instead of cavorting round over town, it wouldn't hurt you any."

Then grandma, who, though she was fond of Missy, was fond of Pete
also, joined in defensively:

"Pete hasn't been cavorting round over town, grandpa--he's just been
over to the Curriers'."

At that Missy turned interested eyes upon her big cousin. He'd been
calling on Polly Currier again! Polly Currier was one of the
prettiest big girls in Cherryvale. Missy gazed at Pete, so handsome
in his stylish-looking blue serge coat and sharply creased white
ducks, debonairly twirling the bamboo walking-stick which the
Cherryvale boys, half-enviously, twitted him about, and felt the
wings of Romance whirring in the already complicated air. For this
additional element of interest he furnished, she could almost
forgive him his scoffing attitude toward her own most serious
affairs.

But Pete, fortunately for his complacency, didn't suspect the reason
for her concentrated though friendly gaze.