“Well, somebody,—what’s the difference?”
“You’ll get a high mark in literature, Di, if that’s your idea.” Hilary laughed as she hopped up briskly. “But to answer your question, I’m worried. Any of you girls know what’s the matter with Lilian?”
“No, not I; why?” queried Eloise, while the others shook their heads to indicate their ignorance.
“What do you mean, Hilary; is Lilian sick, or mad, or anything?”
“Anything, probably.”
“She isn’t sick,” said Betty.
“I’m afraid she’s mad.”
“At you? or more of us? or what?”
Hilary smiled at the questions. “O, at me, I guess; but I can’t imagine what is the matter. She didn’t wait for me after English, as she usually does, gave me a cool nod this morning when I met her in the hall after breakfast, and pretended not to see me a little while ago when she was going down to the river with a bunch of girls. I had spoken yesterday of not having lessons this afternoon and we had planned to study together and then take a walk; so I feel sure something is wrong, or else she’s just sick of going around with me.” Hilary looked forlorn.
“Cheer up, Hilary,” said Diane. “Sure you didn’t imagine it?”