“I didn't have such an awfully good time, anyhow,” avowed Bertram, when speech became rational. “I'd rather have been home with you.”
“Nonsense!” blinked Billy, valiantly. “Of course you had a good time; and it was perfectly right you should have it, too! And I—I hope you'll have it again.”
“I sha'n't,” emphasized Bertram, promptly, “—not and leave you!”
Billy regarded him with adoring eyes.
“I'll tell you; we'll have 'em come here,” she proposed gayly.
“Sure we will,” agreed Bertram.
“Yes; sure we will,” echoed Billy, with a contented sigh. Then, a little breathlessly, she added: “Anyhow, I'll know—where you are. I won't think you're—dead!”
“You—blessed—little-goose!” scolded Bertram, punctuating each word with a kiss.
Billy drew a long sigh.
“If this is a quarrel I'm going to have them often,” she announced placidly.