“What shall you say if he proposes to you, Bee?”
Bee ironed out with much deliberation the [p172] blue chiffon hat strings that made her a joy to all beholders.
“I haven’t quite decided,” she said thoughtfully; “I might say briskly, ‘With much pleasure, my dear Mr. Kinross.’ Or I might put my finger in my mouth and hang back a little time.”
“But you would accept him, Bee?”
“Oh, of course,” said Bee; “wouldn’t you?”
“I—I suppose so,” said Dora.
Then both girls sighed.
“I wish he hadn’t started to go bald,” Bee said pathetically.
“I wish he hadn’t started to grow stout,” Dora added.
Bee pulled herself together.