"Don't, either. She was coiled in the hammock ten minutes ago. Wearing a criminal négligé. Picturesque, but not posing. She slept; I heard her snore."
"She's awake now and wants you to make a fourth at bridge; you two against Elsie and me."
"Botheration! Tell her you couldn't find me."
"I would hush the voice of conscience and do your bidding gladly, old thing, if it lay within the sphere of practical politics. But, unfortunately, she saw you."
"Tell her to go to the devil!"
Ferdie considered this proposition and rejected it with regret.
"She wouldn't do it. But you go on with your reading. I'll tell her you're disgruntled. She'll understand. This will make the fourth day that you haven't taken your accustomed stroll by the schoolhouse. We're all interested, Frankie."
"You banshee!" Francis withdrew the finger that had been keeping his place in the book. "I suppose I'll have to go back with you." He sat up, rather red as to his face.
"I bet she turned you down hard, old boy," murmured Mr. Sedgwick sympathetically. "My own life has been very sad. It has been blighted forever, several times. Is she pretty? I haven't seen her, myself, and the reports of the men-folks and the young ladies don't tally. Funny thing, but scientific observation shows that when a girl says another girl is fine-looking—Hully Gee! And vice versa. Eh? What say?"
"Didn't say anything. You probably overheard me thinking. If so, I beg your pardon."