"You're a big fool," responded L. Frankland. "That's what I think."
XXXII
REBELLION
Georgia walked home to the boarding house that evening, as was her custom when the weather was fair. It was quite a tramp, three miles, but then the fresh air and exercise made one feel so well. Besides, if one wants to be sure of staying slim—
Mrs. Plew, the landlady, was standing on the front stoop when she arrived, talking of carving knives to an old-fashioned scissor-grinding man, the sort who advertise with a bell and a chant.
"Good evening, Mrs. Connor."
"Good evening, Mrs. Plew."
"Lovely weather we're having."
"Yes indeed, isn't it? My partner—she lives in Woodlawn—saw two robins this morning. The buds ought to be out pretty soon now."
Mrs. Plew laughed. "The German bands are out already. That's the surest sign I know. Oh, Mrs. Connor," Georgia, who was on the top step turned, "there was a young man came to see you this afternoon. He waited nearly an hour. He didn't leave his name."