Both Webb and Burt, with Amy, began to laugh, and they looked at each other as if there were a good deal that mother did not know.
"Webb and Amy have evidently some joke on Burt," remarked Leonard. "Webb was out last night, and I bet a pippin he caught Burt flirting with Miss Hargrove."
"Oh, Burt!" cried Amy, in mock indignation.
"Nonsense!" said his mother. "Burt is going to settle down now and be steady. We'll make him sign a pledge before he goes West, won't we, Amy?"
"Yes, indeed," gasped Amy, almost beside herself with merriment; "he'll have to sign one in big capitals."
"Burt," said his father, looking at him over his spectacles, "you've been getting yourself into some scrape as sure as the world. That's right, Amy; you laugh at him well, and—"
"A truce!" exclaimed Burt. "If I'm in a scrape, I don't propose to get out of it, but rather to make you all share in it. As Amy says, her four-leaved clover will prove a true prophet, green as it looks. I now beg off, and shall prove that my scrape has not spoiled my appetite."
"Well," said Leonard, "I never could find any four-leaved clovers, but
I've had good luck, haven't I, Maggie?"
"You had indeed, when you came courting me."
"How about Maggie's luck?" asked Burt.