Wait till you come back next spring with long skirts--such a nice well-behaved Miss Grey." He was, in familiar phrase, out of sorts, with a bit of will to annoy a disappointing companion.

His mild effort had no success.
"Oh, John, it's awful! You ought to be sorry for me.

The more you grow up the more your skirts grow down.

Bother their manners! Who cares! Let's go home.

It feels just as if it was Sunday." "It is, in the woods.