Martin bobbed, and tugged at his cap.
Then Missy reached up and pulled my head down close to her. “Darling Hector!” she whispered. “We’re home to stay!” And she kissed the star in my forehead.
THE GENEVIEVE EPIDEMIC
“I ’M homely,” said Sue, smiling and pulling the grey pony down to a walk; “I’m the homeliest girl to be found at the Brampton Country Club. Why, even plain young married women ask me to their houses on protracted visits.”
As he reined his own horse, Philip Rawson turned upon her a look of reproof. “Ridiculous!” he exclaimed. “The first time a fellow meets you, maybe he only does remember your hair or your eyes. You’ve got awfully attractive eyes, Sue. But the second time he sees how nice you are. And the third time he’s sure to look forward to meeting you again. But by the fourth or fifth time! Well, by gad! by the fourth or fifth time there’s no half-way about it—he thinks you’re a dandy!”
Sue laughed teasingly. “You’ve grown up with those ideas,” she declared. “Do you remember that once—you were twelve, Phil,—you gave Len Hammond the nosebleed because he called me ‘cotton-top’?”
“Your hair is stunning,” said Phil defensively. “And no girl could look better than you do on a horse.”
“But imagine riding a horse to a dance,” said Sue.
“Who wants to go to dances?” demanded Phil. “The idea of wasting hours getting togged for a confounded silly affair and then more hours attending it—when there’s all outdoors to enjoy!”
“Don’t scold,” said Sue. “It’s been ages since I’ve ‘wasted hours’ at a dance. And yesterday I wore out two horses.”