"He's a perfect plague, and always under foot. I never thought of such a
thing as not making him stand around, Polly."

But the brown eyes did not return to their task, as Polly mechanically
stamped another cooky.

"I only promised not to have a bout with Percy," Van proceeded
uncomfortably. And in the same breath, "Go ahead, If you want it, Dicky,
I don't care."

"I do want it," declared Dick, clambering into Van's chair, while Van
returned to his own, "and I'm going to have it too. I guess you think
you'd better give it up now, sir; I'm getting so big."

"Softly there, Dicky," said Mrs. Whitney, over in the window-seat with
her fancy work; "if Van gives up, you should thank him; I think he is
very good to do it." And the bigger boy's heart warmed with the radiant
smile she sent him.

Dick gave several vicious thrusts to his dough, and looked up at last to
say very much against his will, "Thank you," and adding brightly, "but
you know I'm getting big, sir, and you'd better give up."

"All right," said Van, with that smile in his heart feeling equal to
anything.

"Now," cried Jasper, with a flourish of his baking apron, "mine are
ready. Here goes!" and he opened the oven door and pushed in a pan of
biscuit.