"Oh, do!" Elsie pleaded, putting her arm about Fancy's slender waist.
"No, I'm sorry, but I can't, really; I'm going to Tiburon with Blanchard Cayley."
Dougal's face clouded. "Say, what do you want to run with that lobster for? You're altogether too good for him."
"I guess I'm in love with him," said Fancy, still holding Dougal's hand and looking up into his face with a quaint expression.
"You aren't!" they chorused.
"Oh, I am, I am; I'm sure I am!" she repeated insistently. "I've liked him ever since the first time I saw him. What's the use of pretending? Don't say anything against him, please. I'm so happy—I'm perfectly happy, Dougal." The tears came to her eyes.
"I know what'll happen," Dougal said, his pale eyebrows drawn together. "He'll play with you for a while, and then he'll throw you down hard as soon as he's through with you, or another girl comes along."
"Then I hope she won't show up for a good while," said Fancy cavalierly.
"And when it's over?" said Elsie.
Fancy dropped her eyes. "When it's over—I don't know." She looked up. "When it's over I suppose I'll sell apples on Market Street. What else will there be for me to do?"