"You must have the doll, now that we've talked about it, and so that I mayn't lose the pleasure of giving it to you. You can give me something for it, if you like—for instance, give me a penny, to wear on my watch-chain."
"I'll tell you what," exclaimed Trixy, her face suddenly brightening. "I'll give you a lesson for it. You like lessons, don't you—I like 'em—like all I can get, and I've got one for you that Aunt Fee says you need, so I'm sure you'll like it, 'cause ev'rybody likes what they need, don't they?"
The young men admitted that they ought, if they didn't, but his face quickly became grave, and he looked furtively toward the door through which Fenie would appear, as he whispered:
"Tell it to me—quickly."
"Well, it ain't a very big lesson, but you needn't give me a very big doll. Let me see—what was that lesson she said you needed? Oh, I remember: she said that young men ought to know better than to go calling on stormy nights, when ladies don't dress up and be ready to see company. She said you needed a lesson about it, and you had sisters, and they ought to teach it to you. Mebbe, though, your sisters don't like to give lessons?"
"They're not as active at it as they might be," replied the man as he arose hastily and took from his coat pocket a small package. "But—er—perhaps I am not as much to blame as I seem. I dropped in to leave a book which your Aunt Fee wished to read but couldn't find, and I promised to get it for her. I might have left it at the door, but I was thinking very hard at the time about—about a person in whom I am greatly interested, so I managed to——"
"Oh, do you do that?" asked Trixy, following the young man, who was moving rapidly toward the front door.
"Do what?"
"Why, think of one thing while you ought to be doing some other thing? 'Cause if you do, you're just like me."
"Bless you, my child," said Trewman, as he opened the outer door, "I do it all the while. Indeed, no matter what I am doing nowadays, my mind is full of another subject."