But when she saw the boy pick up a vase, grab the flowers out of it with ruthless hand, and start to douse her with the water it was supposed to contain, the Corner House girl “came to” very promptly.
“Don’t do that!” she cried. “You’ll spoil those roses. And if there was water in that vase it would ruin my dress. Goosey! Those are artificial flowers, anyway. That’s all a boy knows!”
“Neale seems to know a great deal that we do not,” Ruth said faintly, really more overcome than Agnes was by the bomb Neale had flung.
“Say! haven’t you heard from Mr. Howbridge?” demanded the youth.
“Mr. Howbridge?” murmured Ruth. “No.”
“Then he’ll be home himself to-morrow, and thought it wasn’t worth while to write.”
“What do you mean, Neale O’Neil?” demanded Agnes.
“Did you see Mr. Howbridge?” asked Ruth.
“But I thought you went to see your uncle, Mr. Sorber,” said the oldest Corner House girl.