"Oh, I wish she could come East to school!" exclaimed Genevieve.
"So do I—if she'd come to Sunbridge," laughed Tilly. "She takes things even more literally than Cordelia does. Sometime I'm going to tell her the moon is made of green cheese, and ask her if she doesn't want a piece. Ten to one if she won't answer that she doesn't care for cheese, thank you. Oh, I wouldn't ask to go to another show for a whole year if she should come to Sunbridge!"
"Tilly! I don't think you ought to talk like that," remonstrated Cordelia. "One would think that Quentina was a—a vaudeville show."
Tilly considered this gravely.
"Why, Cordelia, do you know?—I believe that is just what she is. Thank you so much for thinking of it."
"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia, horrified.
Genevieve frowned.
"Honestly, Tilly, I don't think you are quite fair," she demurred. "Quentina isn't one bit of a show. She's sweet and dear and lovely, with just some funny ways to make her specially interesting."
"All right; we'll let it go at that, then," retorted Tilly, merrily. "She's just specially interesting."
"She must be," smiled Mrs. Kennedy. "In fact, I should very much like to see her, and—I don't believe Tilly means her comments to be quite so unkind as perhaps they sound," she finished with a gentle emphasis that was not lost on her young audience.