“Oh, can’t you understand parables? I mean, you think Berwick owes you a liking, then, and really, you’ve got to make Berwick like you. Berwick, in this case, meaning the dozen or so boys and girls of our set.”
“Well, then, if you know so much, how am I to make them?”
“First, as I said, dislodge that very large and elegant chip that adorns your shoulder,—meaning, don’t feel grouchy toward people because they don’t run and fall on your neck as you approach.”
“Why, Bert Fayre, you’re awful!”
“ ’Course I’m awful, but I’ve simply got to put it to you straight. I know what Dolly’s after, and I know you can give it to her, and yet, it will all be of no use if you don’t play up yourself. You will, Bernice, won’t you?”
“Yes, I will. But I don’t know how.”
“Yes, you do know how, only you find it hard. All you have to do to make people like you and want to be with you, is to like them and be nice to them. You can’t just sit around accepting,—you must give.”
“Give what?”
“Smiles, kindliness, gaiety, fun, nonsense, real true understanding, and all the things that go to make a tiptop girl.”
“Like Dolly?”