Flora heard Mary let Artie Beg in, and ran down the corridor to meet him. She was a vision in white—her graduation dress—with her snowy shoulders rising modestly from a tulle bertha. I paused in order to let her greet him first, and, to my consternation, before I could make known my presence, I heard her say, plaintively:
"Aren't you going to kiss me?"
Then with a stifled groan Artie flung his arms around her, pressing her to him as if he would never let her go. Then he pushed her away from him almost roughly, and Flora laughed a low, tantalizing laugh, and crept back to him to lean her head on his shoulder, and lay her arms around his neck.
I turned and fled. I fairly stampeded down the hall, running full tilt against Aubrey, and nearly folding him up.
"Oh! Oh!" I gasped, dancing up and down before him excitedly.
He seized both my hands.
"Hold still, Faith! What's the matter? Tell me!"
"They're engaged!" I wailed. "I'm too late! Cary has lost him!"
"Who?"
"Artie and Flora."