“Never mind.” She shook her head sagely. “I’m going down town to see it to-morrow,” and she flashed a sunny smile at him that showed her teeth were white.
Matt murmured, uneasily: “Oh, it’s not worth the trouble.”
“It’ll do me good, anyway. I’m getting fat, pa says. Wouldn’t it be awful if I was to take after him? You know he lives away from town so as to have exercise up and down Citadel Hill, but he might as well have lived over the store.” And she giggled, not unmusically.
“You can’t tell what he would have been,” Matt reminded her with a smile.
“Gracious! you frighten me. He might have come through the walls! Do you think there is really any danger of my growing like him? Do tell!”
“There’s no danger of your losing your good looks,” replied Matt, gallantly.
“You mean I never had any,” she said, with a roguish gleam that made the plump face piquant.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” he protested, lamely.
Miss Coble meditatively picked up a piece of tape from the litter of sewing and put it round her waist. Then she measured her bust.
“Is that the proper proportion?” she said, holding it up. “Artists are supposed to know, aren’t they?”