“Well, let him stay there,” retorted Caro. “I don’t want to see him. I’ve got my algebra to tackle anyway, so count me out.”
“You old greathy grind! What do you want to do that for? What ith an algebra problem more or leth? Have all the fun you can get and let the old algebra go, I thay.”
“No, sir, duty first and pleasure after. If you must go boy hunting, find some better companion. There are plenty of others. Me for the unknown quantities.”
“Ithn’t she an old thoberthideth?” exclaimed Florence. “You come, Ellen.”
“No, I have my practising to do and then my lessons.”
“What a pair of old thtick-in-the-mudth,” declared Florence walking away in disgust, leaving Ellen more drawn to Caro than ever.
“She’s such a silly child,” commented Caro. “Now I like fun just as well as anybody, but I never did see any in running after boys. Lots of the girls do it, I know, but I think they make themselves perfectly ridiculous giggling and making eyes at every boy they meet.”
“Don’t you like boys?”
“Yes, well enough, but not in that silly way, certainly not enough to run after them. Do you like them, Ellen?”
“Why, yes, I think so. I’ve never known very many. Living in a studio as we did, there wasn’t much chance of meeting them. Father and Mother entertained only the grown-up artists and musicians, and they were always such fun that I didn’t miss younger company. If I had gone to an art school I suppose I might have met dozens.”