Terry and Sim followed. They were already lost in daydreams of music, laughter, lights, and gayety: the prospective coming dance.
“Say, listen, Sim,” exclaimed Terry suddenly, taking hold of Sim’s arm to assure attention.
“What is it, darling?” joked Sim. “Got a better idea for our dance boy supply?”
“No, nothing about that. But you know our Tom who got that mysterious blow the other night?”
“Do I?”
“Well, I heard him telling one of the gardeners about it, and he was laughing it off.”
“Well, what’s wrong about that?” demanded Sim.
“Sounded flooey to me. He said he merely tripped over a tree stump and another stump cut his head.”
“Maybe he did,” Sim casually answered.
“And maybe he didn’t,” retorted Terry significantly.