“Yes,” said Miss Cigale. “It was a perfectly natural way for you to think, my dear boy. And I was frightfully stupid to try to do it that way. I meant to help you a little bit, but—” She smiled. “Anyhow, it’s all over and done with now, and I hope we’ll part good friends.”
“Part!” said he. “But aren’t you coming back?”
“I’d rather not.”
There they stood, on the street corner, all idea of a taxi forgotten.
“But, look here!” said Geordie. “You did that for me—and I behaved—I behaved—like a—” His voice broke. “I didn’t know,” he went on, unsteadily. “Because, you see—I didn’t think any one could—any one in the world.[Pg 438]”
“Oh, there are lots of people like me!” Miss Cigale assured him. “Lots of grasshoppers. They dance the summer away, and then, when the winter comes, they’re a horrible nuisance to the ants, but they’re inclined to be pretty sympathetic toward any one else who has grasshopperish troubles. Not that I think you’re the least bit of a grasshopper, my dear boy! I’m quite sure you’re far too intelligent and sensible for that!”
“No!” said Geordie, vehemently. “I am a grasshopper! Nobody knows what a grasshopper—and a fool—I am!”
“I’m sure it was just a temporary difficulty.”
“I’ve been doing my best, for nearly a year, to make it permanent,” he said, grimly. “You see, there’s a girl.”
“I’m so glad!” cried Miss Cigale.