“Don’t you think we ought to pledge ourselves to be truthful at least, while your father is away?”
“Truthful?”
“Yes. Not to deceive each other or Margot or anyone who has a right to our—our confidence,” finished Nancy, rather laboriously.
Rosa sighed. “That would be awfully hard to carry out,” she said. “For me, at least.”
“Why?” demanded Nancy.
“Oh, I just can’t tell you at this hour. Let’s go to bed and dream of—to-morrow night’s dance.”
“All right, Rosa,” assented Nancy, “but you have no idea how scary it is here when you are out too late. I can well imagine how Margot feels. It’s really very strange to me, for you are awfully young to be so—so—”
“Sporty!” lisped Rosa rather comically.
“No, not that,” Nancy scoffed. “We’re nothing but school girls, and I’m no good at pretending I’m grown up. But anyhow, Rosa, I hope you won’t worry me to death!”
In answer to that the cousins reverted to the true girlship they were discussing, for Rosa fell upon Nancy’s bed, and the way they talked, and the things they talked of, proved them girls, no more nor less.