“But what made you so angry with me?”
“Nothing—that is—the usual thing. The way you always behave to me at parties.”
George looked at her in silence for a second, before he spoke again.
“Do you mean to say that you really care,” he asked, “whether I talk to you at parties, or not?”
“Of course I care!” exclaimed the young girl. “What a question!”
“I am sure I cannot see why. I am not a very amusing person. But since you would like me to talk to you, I will, as much as you please.”
“It is too late now,” answered Mamie, laying down the roses she had held so long. “Everything is over, or will be in a day or two, and you will not get a chance unless you come and stay with us this summer. Why do you never come and stay with us? I have often wondered.”
“I was never asked,” said George indifferently. “I could not well come without an invitation. And besides, I have generally been very busy in the summer.”
“Did they never ask you?” inquired Mamie in evident surprise. “Mamma must have forgotten it.”
“I daresay,” George replied, rather dreamily. His thoughts were wandering from the conversation.