“I haven’t much use for a person who dares himself and then loses,” said Babe coolly. “Are you that sort?”
John did not answer at all at the time, but on the day the girls left Oban he took Babe to one side. “Meet you anywhere you like three weeks from day before yesterday,” he announced gaily.
“Good for you!” returned Babe. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Here’s a pin to remind you of your promise,” said John, holding out a stick-pin set with a Scotch cairngorm. “Girls have such short memories.”
“They haven’t any shorter memories than boys,” declared Babe indignantly. “I’m just as much obliged for the pin, but I don’t need it.”
“Take it as a souvenir of Oban, then,” urged John.
Babe looked longingly at the sparkling yellow stone. “Do you take back what you said about girls’ memories?”
“Well, perhaps I don’t know much about the general run of girls,” John qualified. “Babbie Hildreth remembers her promises all right, and I’m sure you do.”
“You’re the one that’s likely not to be able to keep this particular promise,” said Babe, pinning the cairngorm into her blue tie, which showed it off to perfection. “You mustn’t come, you know, unless you’ve finished your work. College boys are such dreadful idlers.”
“They’re not,” declared John hotly. “I’ll show you that this one isn’t, anyhow.”