With that the impulsive girl threw her arms around the lad’s neck and tip-toed upwards to reach his brown cheek with her lips. Only to find her arms unclasped and herself set down with considerable energy.
“Quit that, girlie. Makes me look like a fool!”
“I should think it did. Your face is as red—as red! Aren’t you glad to see me, again?” demanded Miss Dorothy, folding her arms and standing firmly before him.
She looked so pretty, so bewitching, that some passers-by smiled, at which poor Jim’s face turned even a deeper crimson and he picked up his luggage to go forward with the crowd.
“But aren’t you glad, Jim?” she again mischievously asked, playfully obstructing his progress.
“Oh! bother! Course. But boys can be glad without such silly kissin’. I don’t know what ails girls, anyway, likin’ so to make a feller look ridic’lous.”
Dorothy laughed and now marched along beside him, contenting herself by a clasp of his burdened arms.
“Jim, you’re a dear. But you’re cross. I can always tell when you’re that by your ‘relapsing into the vernacular,’ as I read in Aunt Betty’s book. Never mind, Jim, I’m in trouble!”
“Shucks! I’d never dream it!”