“Jim, Jim, you are behaving shamefully and mussing me all up,” she said, struggling to free herself, but she was held fast and stern tones pleaded, “I just can’t let you go now. I just can’t.”
“Jim, dear, you must or I won’t even love you a little,” she laughed.
“Well, if I must, I must,” he said, kissing her just once again. “My girl, my own girl,” he added.
“Jim, I haven’t promised you anything, and I just said I cared for you a little. I’d have to love you a lot before I could promise you anything. You mustn’t call me yours. If, when I come back from my trip, and that’s a long time from now, I do love you——” added Dorothy.
“You will promise me then? You will? Oh girl, you make me so happy, so happy!” cried Jim. “I will work so hard all winter and save up so much. I have considerable saved up now. Then you will come to me, girl?”
“I said if I did love you then,” teased Dorothy, “and that’s if——”
“You little tease,” interrupted Jim. “I will punish you.”
“No you won’t,” Dorothy added quickly. “And never, never say anything of the kind to me again, or even try to love me, or I’ll just never, never love you. I have my music to attend to and you mustn’t disturb my practice or even try to make me think of you when I should be thinking of it.”
“Very well,” acquiesced Jim, sadly, “it will be very hard though. I’ll promise if you will write me every day while you are away.”
“Every day!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Not every day. I wouldn’t know what to say.”