"Goodness, what's the use of arguing?" Mollie broke in. "The fact remains that we've been cheered by a crowd of our friends, made speeches to, and presented with bouquets, and I don't care whose fault it was it all happened. I'm too happy."
"Happy," echoed Amy, gazing dreamily out of the window at the flying landscape. "I never was so happy in my life before—except for one thing." Her face clouded a little and she bit her lip.
"What one thing?" asked Mollie with interest. Grace and Betty turned to gaze at her inquiringly.
"Oh, n—nothing," stammered Amy, very much confused to find all eyes upon her. "I was just—thinking aloud, I guess."
"Well, do it some more," suggested Grace, passing her the candy.
"Something tells me it might be interesting."
"Goodness, it is interesting," laughed Betty, changing the subject to save Amy further embarrassment. "Have any of you girls ever heard Grace talk in her sleep?"
"Now, Betty," Grace turned upon her reproachfully. "You're never going to—"
"Yes, she is," cried Mollie gleefully. "What does she say, Betty? It ought to be good."
"I never say anything that isn't good," put in Grace primly, adding, as she saw the light of mischief in Betty's eye. "If you tell tales out of school, Betty Nelson, I'll never forgive you."
"It's awfully funny," began Betty, bubbling over, while Mollie leaned forward gleefully. "She talks in such a wee small voice, and sometimes she'll even answer questions—if you speak very coaxingly."