“Did he say what we’re going to do to-day?” she inquired.
“Not a word!” said I. “Said nothing!”
“Not even whether we’re going home or not—or anything?” she demanded. “No? But what are we here for?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Ask him!”
“Might as well ask the man on that monument!” she retorted, pointing out of the window. “I feel like a marionette!—with Jimmie pulling the strings just as he pleases.”
“Do you mind?” I asked.
“Well, it does seem as if one hadn’t a mind or a will of one’s own,” she said. “Look here!—if he comes to breakfast with some new scheme, or plan, or mad notion, what are you going to do—yourself?”
I gave her a purposely steady look.
“Fall in with it,” I answered.
“You are!” she exclaimed. “Why?”