“You didn’t say any particular time, you know,” answered Bertie, gently.
“I said afternoon,” returned Queenie, with dignity. “That means after dinner, of course. I came as soon as I could get out after dinner, and if you had been what people say you are, you would have done the same.”
“What do people say I am?” asked Bertie.
“They say you are a gentleman,” answered Queenie; “but I don’t feel so sure about it. Do you think you are?”
Bertie shook his head.
“Oh no! I’m only a little boy.”
“That doesn’t make any difference,” cried Queenie, impatiently. “What a stupid little boy you must be! I’m only a little girl; but then I’m a lady too, as you can see for yourself.”
Bertie’s eyes opened wide.
“Are you?” he questioned, innocently. “I don’t think I should have known.”
Queenie drew herself up for a moment, as if she were going to walk away in a pet; but, as Bertie did not in the least understand his own enormities and showed no disposition to follow and humble himself, she stopped short and began to laugh instead.