Helping the May Girl up from her cramped position, George Keets bent low for a single exaggerated moment over her proffered hand.
"I certainly think you are making a mistake, Miss Davies," bantered young Kennilworth. "For a long run, of course, Mr. Keets might be better, but for a short run I am almost sure that you would have been jollier in the brown bungalow with me."
"Time will tell," dimpled the May Girl.
"Then I really may consider us—formally engaged?" smiled George Keets, still bending low over her hand. He was really rather amused, I think—and quite as much embarrassed as he was amused.
"No, not exactly formally," dimpled the May Girl. "But until breakfast time to-morrow morning."
"Until breakfast time to-morrow morning," hooted young Kennilworth. "That's the deuce of a funny time-limit to put on an engagement . . . It's like asking a person to go skating when there isn't any ice!..."
"Is it?" puzzled the May Girl.
"What the deuce do you expect Keets to get out of it?" quizzed young Kennilworth.
In an instant the May Girl was all smiles again. "He'll get mentioned in my prayers," she said. "'Please bless Mr. Keets, my fiancé-till-to-morrow-morning.'"
"That's certainly—something," conceded George Keets.