"Donald Campbell, I dare say. But I don't know how to believe anything so perfectly delightful. I never dreamed of such a thing."
"I have known it all along," said Betsy. "But mother thought we had better not tell you anything till we were sure, so I didn't say a word."
"And that is the incredible part of it," said Bram, who had slipped in to enjoy Marion's surprise—"that Betsy should know anything and not tell it. One can believe anything after that."
"Now, Bram, you sha'n't tease her," said Marion, pulling Betsy down to her on the bed.
A year before she would have resented being kept out of the secret and treated like a child, as she would have said. Now she appreciated the kindness which had shielded her from suspense and possible disappointment.
"Oh, I don't mind them; they are only boys," said Betsy, with an air of magnificent disdain.
"Only boys! Just hear her!"
"Betsy always says that," said Rob, rather aggrieved. "I don't see why boys are not just as good as girls; and if they are not, they can't help it."
"Of course they can't; it's their misfortune, not their fault," returned aggravating Betsy.
"Elizabeth Margaret, if you don't behave, I shall feel it my duty, in a spirit of brotherly love, to come and pull your ears," said Bram, solemnly.