“Don’t rub it in,” cried Evelyn, clapping her hands to her ears. “You have me fairly jumping with envy now.”
“Do you think you could find Henri Charloix for Jeanette, Dad?” said Lucile, turning eagerly to her father and ignoring the interruption. “You see, there’s nothing to stand between them now.”
“I think so,” said Mr. Payton, his eyes kindling with an interest almost as great as his daughter’s. “I’ll spare no trouble to bring those poor harassed young people together. It’s an outrage the way the French hand their children about like so much merchandise. I’ll do my best little girl, now that you have started the ball rolling,” he promised.
Lucile squeezed his hand gratefully, and Jessie suddenly broke out with, “Now I know why Phil hasn’t seemed to take much interest in the proceedings, and why he has 164 been studying the sky with such concentration ever since Lucile has been talking.”
“Why?” cried both girls, in a single breath.
“Simply because”—she paused for dramatic effect, then flung her bomb with force at the intended victim—“he’s jealous!” she hissed.
“Oh, is that so?” said Phil, drawing his gaze reluctantly from the far horizon and letting it rest dreamily on his accuser. “May I be allowed to ask what intricate and devious chain of reasoning leads you to make so unheard-of a charge?”
“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Jessie, disrespectfully. “You know you’re jealous, so why deny it? Seems to me I remember”—it was her turn to let her gaze wander sky-ward—“if I mistake not, that a short time ago a certain young gentleman—I mention no names, but look where I’m looking”—she threw him a mischievous glance, which he was by no means loath to intercept—“did, upon occasion, laugh and scoff——”
“Same thing,” Phil interrupted.
“At his sister,” Jessie continued, undaunted, “when she ventured to prophesy that which has really taken place.”