"Genevieve, I—I think I'm going to c-cry," wailed Tilly's sobbing voice from the adjoining balcony.
"Cry!—when it's all so lovely!" exclaimed Genevieve.
Tilly nodded.
"Yes. That's why I want to," she quavered. "Honestly, Genevieve, if I stay here long I shall be writing poetry like Quentina—I know I shall!"
"If you do, just let me read it, that's all," retorted Genevieve, saucily. "Where's Cordelia?"
"Off somewhere with Elsie and Bertha. She got dressed early—but I sha'n't get dressed at all if I don't go about it."
At that moment there was the sound of a scream, then the patter of running feet in the court below.
"Why, there they are now," cried Genevieve, leaning over the railing. "Girls, girls!" she called, regardless of others in the court. "Look up here! What's the matter?"
The girls stopped, and looked up. Cordelia, only, cast an apprehensive glance over her shoulder.
"It's an alligator in the fountain in the other court," explained Elsie. "Bertha said she heard there was one there, and so we went to see—and we found out."