“Why, Cousin Zula, here you are, I have been looking all around for you, and here you are—drawing, too. What, you haven’t been crying? Are you homesick?”
“Oh, no. What made you think I had been crying?”
“I fancied I saw tears; that was all.”
“Well, I did cry a little. There were two of the sauciest young ladies here—no, I don’t believe they were ladies.”
“Were they rude to you?”
“I should think they were.”
“What did they say?”
“They thought I looked like a gypsy, and I told her it was none of her business if I was.”
“Why, Zula, did you tell her that?”
“Yes, I did.”