“That’s too bad.” It was impossible to gauge Leslie’s exact humor from the reply. Her answers to impersonal remarks so often verged on insolence.
“So I thought,” pertly retorted the other girl. At the same time she furtively inspected Leslie.
“What is it now? You make me think of that old story of the ‘Flounder’ in ‘Grimms’ Fairy Tales.’ You are like the fisherman’s wife who was always asking favors of the flounder. We will assume that I am the flounder.”
“How do you know that I wish to ask a favor?” Elizabeth colored hotly at the insinuation. She put on an injured expression, her lips slightly pouted.
“I’m a mind reader,” was the laconic reply.
“Hm! Suppose I were to ask you to do something for me? Haven’t you said lots of times that I could rely on you?” persisted Elizabeth. “I don’t understand you, Leslie. You are so sweet to me at times and so horrid at others.”
“You’ll understand me better after today,” came the significant assurance. “Come on. We will walk across the campus to your house.”
“Why not yours?” Elizabeth demanded in patent disappointment. “I see enough of Alston Terrace. I’d rather go with you to Wayland Hall. Your nice room is a fine place for a confidential chat.”
“You won’t see the inside of it this P.M. I am not going into the house when we come to Alston Terrace. I have a severe headache and choose to stay out in the open air. It’s a fair day, and not cold enough to bar a walk on the campus.”
“Very well.” Elizabeth sighed and looked patient. “I hope we don’t meet any of the girls. I have a private matter to discuss with you.”