One evening, soon after the bazaar, the McGuires were dining with the Irvings, and naturally were discussing the very successful entertainment.
“And I think,” Mr. Irving remarked, “that the young chap who took the part of ‘April Fool’ was one of the hits of the evening. He was so merry and good-natured, and yet so full of quips and pranks, why, he nearly fooled me two or three times!”
“Oh, pshaw, Grandpa,” said Betty, saucily, “it would be easy enough to fool you; you’re so—so honest and good-natured, you know.”
Mr. Irving looked at the roguish, smiling face with pretended severity.
“Indeed, Miss Curlyhead! So you think it easy to fool your simple-minded old grandfather, do you? Well, little lady, you’re greatly mistaken! In fact, you’re quite wrong! Fool me! Humph! Why, when I was in college, the boys said I was the only one they could never play a practical joke on!”
Mr. Irving looked very proud of his record for shrewdness, but his eyes twinkled as he saw Betty’s incredulous smile.
“All right, Miss Mischief,” he went on, “if you doubt my word, try it. I’ll wager you a hat you can’t get off a joke upon your unsuspecting old grandfather that I don’t see through before it reaches its climax. Fool me, indeed!”
“I don’t want to fool you, Grandpa,” said Betty, demurely, “only I think I could—that’s all.”
“You little rogue, you do, do you? Well, the burden of proof rests with you.”
“You know you wagered a hat,” said Betty, smiling; “did you mean it?”