“Yes, but they have the fun of getting paid for it,” Jack suggested, practically.
Lucile laughed. “I never thought of it in that light before,” she said, and then added, with a sigh, “Well, I suppose it’s all over now.” 58
“Sorry?” whispered Jack.
“Of course; aren’t you?” she countered, with a quick upward glance, that fell before his steady gaze.
Jack answered softly, as several of the girls and boys approached “More sorry than I can make you understand—now.”
Lucile thrilled with a new, strange emotion that she could not analyze; she only knew it was absurdly hard to look at Jack, and that she was immensely relieved when Evelyn greeted her with a merry, “Don’t you wish it were beginning all over again, Lucy? I don’t feel a bit like going home.”
“That seems to be the general cry,” broke in Marjorie. “And to think that you girls are going away to-morrow!” she added. “You’ll be tired out after to-night.”
“Oh, we’re not going till late in the afternoon, so we can sleep all we want to in the morning. All the packing is done,” said Jessie, reassuringly.
“But who speaks of sleep?” broke in Lucile, gaily. “I never felt so far from it in all my life.”
“No, but you’ll feel mighty near it about two o’clock to-morrow afternoon, if I’m any judge,” Phil prophesied, grimly.