'Oh! where?' cried Robina. 'Darker blue than Edgar's?'
'It's generally only one at a time.'
'After a cricket match, eh?' suggested Lance.
'But, depend upon it,' said Bill, while Robina was recovering her laughing disgust, 'he may tell her her eyes are any colour he pleases by this time.'
'How do you know that?' sharply protested Robin; 'as if she would care for him more than for all of us, who can't spare her either!'
'I thought you were thick and plenty up the country?'
'Not of that sort,' said Lance.
'I don't believe it,' insisted Robina; 'why, she had never seen him a few weeks ago; she can't have had time to get to like him.'
'That's your simplicity,' said Bill. 'Now ain't that oracular—I mean ocular—demonstration? There they are, very moral of people making fools of themselves in books.'
'I wish they'd have done with it, then,' sighed Lance; 'my legs won't hold out much longer.'