One morning when Sukey entered Dic's room she said: "Tom was to see me last night. He said he would come up to see you to-day."
"He meant that he will come up to see you," replied Dic, teasing her. "One of these times I'll lose another friend to Indianapolis, and when I go up there with my country ways you won't know me."
"I'll never go to Indianapolis," Sukey responded, with a demure glance. "Dear old Blue is good enough for me. The nearer I can live to it, the better I shall be satisfied." Dic's lands were on the river banks, while those of Sukey's father were a mile to the east.
"If you lived too close to the river, you might fall in," returned Dic, choosing to take Sukey's remark in jest.
"I'm neither sugar nor salt," she retorted, "and I would not melt. I'm sure I'm not sugar—"
"But sugarish," interrupted Dic.
"You don't think I'm even sugarish," she returned poutingly.
"Indeed I do," he replied; "but you must not tell Tom I said so."
"Why not?" asked Sukey. "He's nothing to me—simply a friend."
So the conversation would run, and Sukey, by judicious fishing, caught a minnow now and then.