"Well!" Willard's feelings were mixed, his face was not fashioned to express a conflict of emotions, and words failed him, too. "You're a queer kid. Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Aren't you glad, Willard?"
"You'll get sleepy."
"Aren't you glad?"
"Sure I'm glad. But you can't run, and you are a cry-baby."
These were known facts, not insults, but now Judith's eyes had stopped dancing.
"Judy, are you mad with me?"
"No."
"You're the queerest kid." Up the street, he caught sight of a member of a simpler sex than Judith's. "There's Ed coming out of the gate. I've got to see him about something. See you later. Don't be mad. So long!"
The house was astir behind Judith. Father was opening and shutting doors, and hunting for things. Norah was helping mother into her wraps and scolding. Somebody was telephoning. Mother's carriage was late.