Instead of disputing about it and calling each other names, you ought to settle it with a fight and be friends afterward....

Isn't that so, Duane ?" Duane seemed doubtful.
"Isn't it so ?" she repeated fiercely, stepping so swiftly in front of him that he jumped back.
"Yes, I guess so," he admitted; and the sudden smile which Geraldine flashed on him completed his subjection.
Naida, in her boy's clothes, came out, her hands in her pockets, strutting a little and occasionally bending far over to catch a view of herself as best she might.
"All ready!" cried Geraldine; "begin! Look out, Naida; I'm going to throw you." Behind her the two boys touched gloves, then Scott rushed his man.
At the same moment Geraldine seized Naida.
"We are not to pull hair," she said; "remember! Now, dear, look out for yourself!" Of that classic tournament between the clans of Mallett and Seagrave the chronicles are lacking.

Doubtless their ancestors before them joined joyously in battle, confident that all details of their prowess would be carefully recorded by the family minstrel.
But the battle of that Saturday noon hour was witnessed only by the sparrows, who were too busy lugging bits of straw and twine to half-completed nests in the cornices of the House of Seagrave, to pay much attention to the combat of the Seagrave children, who had gone quite mad with the happiness of companionship and were expressing it with all their might.
Naida's dark curls mingled with the grass several times before Geraldine comprehended that her new companion was absurdly at her mercy; and then she seized her with all the desperation of first possession and kissed her hard.
"It's ended," breathed Geraldine tremulously, "and nobody gained the victory and--you _will_ love me, won't you ?" "I don't know--I'm all dirt." She looked at Geraldine, bewildered by the passion of the lonely child's caresses.

"Yes--I do love you, Geraldine.
Oh, _look_ at those boys! How perfectly disgraceful! They _must_ stop--make them stop, Geraldine!" Hair on end, grass-stained, dishevelled, and unspeakably dirty, the boys were now sparring for breath.

Grime and perspiration streaked their countenances.