"Hum!" grunted Jeremiah. "Hum! Let me catch him trying to keep company with you! White tennis, and pants, and gulfing around with them funny sticks! Lemme catch him!"
"Don't get so excited!" said Cecilia between little giggles. "He may not even want me. He really hasn't asked me yet."
"He ain't?" exploded Jeremiah. "He ain't? Why not? Is the durn fool blind? I'd like to know why not."
Cecilia sank to a white marble seat. She was laughing helplessly. Suddenly she sobered and wiped her eyes.
"Dear," she said, "do you think I'd love you less, for—for loving some one else? Didn't you love the whole world more because of mamma? It only makes me want to be much nicer, and want to hug the earth!"
She covered her face as she finished, with slender, little hands. Jeremiah sat down by her.
"I want my bonnet with pink roses on it!" she whispered, "I do want it!" He put his arms around her because he couldn't answer. A gull with silver wings swooped low. Cecilia uncovered her face, and kissed the brick king. "Which is my very prettiest dress?" she asked. "I want to wear it Saturday afternoon."
She tried to think her depression came from the night before, but half of it came from the letter which she held in her hand. She had had the strangest sinking sensation on reading it, and she did love Marjory. Why it had made her feel that way was a mystery.
