Scandalized and rather indignant as the point of the joke began to reach her, Eleanor was dismayed to see that Bessie, the grave, was also having a hard time to keep from laughing outright. So she blushed, which was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, and then made some excuse for a hasty flight.
“Well, you people have so many things happen to you all the time,” said Trenwith, indignantly, “that I don’t see why it wasn’t perfectly natural for me to come out to see what was wrong now!”
“Oh, don’t apologize to me, Mr. Trenwith!” said Dolly, mischievously. “And–can you keep a secret?”
He looked at her, not knowing whether he ought to laugh or frown, and Dolly went up to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and raised herself so that she could whisper in his ear.
“She isn’t half as angry as she pretends,” she said.
Then Eleanor came back, and Dolly made herself scarce. She had a positive genius for knowing just how far she could go safely in her teasing.
“I had to come out here, anyhow,” said Trenwith, to Eleanor. “Look here. I got this message from Charlie Jamieson.”
Eleanor took it.
“I don’t see why you let Charlie order you around so,” she said, severely. “Haven’t you any business of your own to attend to? He hasn’t any right to expect you to waste all your time trying to keep us out of trouble.”
“Oh, it isn’t wasted,” he said, indignantly. “We’re supposed to help our friends–and we’re friends, aren’t we?”