Hilda [sticking to the point]. Well you did suggest it, didn't you?
Jamie [jerking his head]. Oh, I suppose so! [He sits with his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, and gazes at the rising light.]
Hilda. I'm just as tired as you are.
Jamie [sneeringly]. Yes, I've no doubt!
Hilda [hopelessly]. Oh, Jamie!
Jamie [with a fiendishly sarcastic grin that she doesn't see between her fingers]. And you're catching cold, too.
Hilda [recovering]. Why, I'm not either; what makes you say that?
Jamie [with withering sarcasm]. Oh, aren't you? I thought you were—by the sniffles!
Hilda [with some return of her former spirit]. You're a mean, horrid, old thing, just as mean and horrid as you can be; and I'll never speak to you again as long as I live!
Jamie [significantly]. Oh, I guess you will.