“Ah! that’s Fritz,” and she opened the door.
“Good enough, Amy,” said the boy; “I was afraid that you might not be home. I wish that you’d come down with me to the shore. I want to celebrate. I ’ve a whole stack of firecrackers; see!” and he held up a pasteboard box so that Amy could see it.
“I have two dollars, too, to spend; but my uncle won’t let me send off a thing near any house. But he said I could go down to the beach—so come, Amy.”
“Oh, I can’t possibly go now, Fritz; you know how much I have to do. There’s dinner to get ready, and—”
“Oh, who wants to eat on the Fourth of July? You could get a bite of something, and then come on with me. Your mother won’t care. She likes you to have as much fun as you can.”
Amy, leaning out of the window, pointed significantly to the window above.
“Oh, I forgot the old lady. But your mother can stay with her.”
“I ’ll tell you what, Fritz,” said Amy, after a moment of reflection. “You stay here to lunch. Of course we can’t have fireworks around this house any more than around yours. But after dinner I can probably go off somewhere with you, when I ’ve washed the dishes.”
“All right,” said Fritz; “I can stay as well as not; and say, don’t you think it would be fun to go over to Marblehead this afternoon? We could go on the electrics, and I have money to pay for quite a little spree.”
“I ’ll see about it. You sit here on the back steps in
