“Not a splinter of it, Timmie.”
“An' you don't see where my legs don't match, do you?”
“No, not a single bit.”
“That's all right, then.” Timmie's brow smoothed with relief. He was silent a moment, and then his little whispering voice again, this time to Glory:
“Say, isn't this just splendid! I'm playin', an' Di's playin'. You're the only one that's it, honest true.”
Another silence. Then, “Say, I'm sorry I wokened you up that time, screamin' ‘Fire!’”
Glory laughed down into the repentant little face. “I'll forgive you, Timmie,” she whispered. And then the exercises began and the air was full of a blast of jubilant music.
When it was all over, the three went back to Little Douglas together on the train. There was to be a bit of a banquet in Aunt Hope's room.
Glory had a neat white parchment roll in her hand, and she held it shyly, as if she had not had time to get very well acquainted with it.
“To think this is a diploma with Gloria Wetherell in Latin inside it!” she cried.