"Back again, at last?" Billy looked up with a smile, as Theodora came flying into the room.
"Yes. Have you missed me?"
"Haven't I? You mustn't go off again, Ted. You are altogether too frisky."
"What could I do? Papa took me."
"Had a good time?"
"Beautiful. It's too much for one spring,—three weeks in New York, and this lovely week of driving."
"You had good weather, sure enough. Also, ma'am, you're brown as a squaw. Also, I think your hair has grown."
"Wish 't would; but that's a forbidden subject. I'll tell you one thing, Billy Farrington: if I ever do get any hair again, I'll guard it like the apple of my eye. But what about you?"
"News."
"Oh, what?" she questioned eagerly.