"A headache! dear me, what a brute I am. But wait a minute. I'll send right to the city for a dozen bottles of bay rum, or schnapps, or something of that sort."
"No, no," answered Elsie, laughing herself into semi-hysterics, "I shall be better in a minute."
"And come downstairs—will you come downstairs?"
"Yes, yes; wait a minute while I get the tangle out of my hair."
Tom retreated to the staircase and waited with his eyes fastened on Elsie's door like those of a good-natured watchdog. As for the girl herself, she bathed her face in cold water, chilling the pain away, straightened out her curls, twisted all her hair in a great knot back of the head, and came out softly, like a dear little forgiving nun, filled with compassion for other people's sins.
Tom followed her into the little morning-room where his confession had been made, and sat down on the sofa to which she retreated with great caution, as if she were afraid.
"Won't Bessie and Mellen be astonished," he insinuated; "I do wonder how they will look, when we tell 'em how it is."
"You won't have an opportunity of judging just at present," replied Elsie.
"Why won't I?"
"Because I don't choose you to say one word about the matter to any human being until I give you permission."