"I don't see what that has to do with it!" Grace retorted; but only a sharp click of the door and a little derisive laugh in the hall outside answered her. "Oh, well," she added, sitting up and regarding Betty reproachfully as if that young person were responsible, "I suppose I have got to get up."
"Of course, and make yourself charming for the prince," said Betty, pinning a rose at exactly the right angle in her soft white waist. "You don't have to be a sleeping beauty to find him, you know," she added sagely.
"You seem to know a lot about it," said Grace, regarding her friend soberly. "I shouldn't wonder if you had found him, Betty."
Betty turned sharply to see if she were joking, then the soft color flooded her face. "Nonsense!" she said, but her tone was not convincing.
"Yes, you have," said Grace, not to be put off. "I can tell by the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you and oh—and—a hundred little things." She waved her hand vaguely.
"Oh, Gracy, don't be foolish," said Betty, recovering her usual composure. "If you don't look out I'll begin to get personal. You needn't think you are the only one that has eyes."
"Oh, well," said, Grace, flushing in her turn. "If you are going to begin that—— Oh, Betty, just smell the bacon! Please hand me that shoe, quick!"
"Oh!" cried Betty, and drew back as a small stone flung by some one below hurtled through the open window and fell to the floor at her feet. "Look! It has something tied to it," she cried, and, stooping, picked it up.
"Bring it here," called Grace excitedly. "Oh, this is romantic! Betty, let me see it, quick!"
"Wait a minute, I haven't seen it myself yet," said Betty, as she unfolded the tiny slip of paper attached to the stone. "Well, of all the——"