"Well, it's easier sometimes than arguing with you," declared Julia, stretching her arm again with a sigh of relief. "I still think I was right about that sunstroke."
At the last lesson Lucy and Julia had had a hot discussion as to whether the sunstruck person's head should be raised or lowered, which ended in Lucy's spilling all the ice for her patient's head compress over Julia's face as she lay on the sofa. Even after that Lucy refused to give in, and the book, by an annoying confusion of terms, seemed to give neither side satisfaction.
Lucy smiled at the remembrance. There had lots of funny things happened during the course, though such hard and effective work lay behind them, and Lucy thanked Miss Thomas sincerely in her heart for the hours of distraction from worry that the lessons had brought.
It was a lovely clear day, and after luncheon Lucy offered to take William out on his sled, feeling like having a little strenuous exercise. William seemed quite willing to help her get it, for he asked:
"Do you mind pulling Happy, too, Lucy? He gets awfully deep in the snow if he has to walk."
"How about me?" Lucy demanded. "All right, I'll see how heavy you are."
She selected the parade, which had been firmly packed down by the marching men, and drew William and Happy past Colonel's Row and across it. Then, as they came to Brick Row, the sparkling water tempting her, she pulled the sled over the new land toward the sea-wall, a hard tug of half a mile that made her sink down by William's side as they neared the water, with hot cheeks and panting breath.
"Gracious, what a pair of fat lazybones!" she exclaimed, looking at her passengers with unconcealed scorn. "Why don't you get out and stretch your legs? That puppy needs some exercise."
"All right," agreed William, peaceably. "You said you wanted to pull me. Happy would rather walk, anyway," he added in defense of his pet, whom he had been holding on the sled with great difficulty all the way over.
"It's lovely out here in the sun," said Lucy, calming down.