“All serene, Dolly?” asked Bob, as he came up to claim one of his dances with her.
“Yes, indeed,” and Dolly’s eyes shone. “You’re a trump, Bob! I thank you a thousand bushels.”
“Oh, it isn’t so hard. Bernie has improved a lot since last we met. She isn’t nearly so pettish and stickery as she used to be. And she’s mighty pretty, beside.”
“Yes, isn’t she! And that dress is stunning on her.”
“Rather grown-uppish, isn’t it? I like yours and Dot’s better. But I’m not much on parties, anyhow. These dance affairs bore me stiff.”
“Why, I thought you liked them. A college boy ought to be crazy about dances.”
“Oh, I s’pose they’re good enough, but I like better a rollicking picnic, or something outdoorsy.”
“Silly! You can’t have picnics in winter!”
“Well, you can have outdoor sports. There ought to be skating to-morrow, I think. It’s getting awfully cold.”
“I wish there would be, I love to skate.”