“The thing I like about Alfred,” said Zoie, as she gazed at the tip of her dainty satin slipper, and turned her head meditatively to one side, “is his positive nature. I've never before met any one like him. Do you know,” she added with a sly twinkle in her eye, “it was all I could do to keep from laughing at him. He's so awfully serious.” She giggled to herself at the recollection of him; then she leaned forward to Aggie, her small hands clasped across her knees and her face dimpling with mischief. “He hasn't the remotest idea what I'm like.”
Aggie studied her young friend with unmistakable reproach. “I MADE Jimmy know what I'M like,” she said. “I told him ALL my ideas about everything.”
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Zoie in shocked surprise.
“He's sure to find out sooner or later,” said Aggie sagely. “I think that's the only sensible way to begin.”
“If I'd told Alfred all MY ideas about things,” smiled Zoie, “there'd have BEEN no beginning.”
“What do you mean?” asked Aggie, with a troubled look.
“Well, take our meeting,” explained Zoie. “Just as we were introduced, that horrid little Willie Peck caught his heel in a flounce of my skirt. I turned round to slap him, but I saw Alfred looking, so I patted his ugly little red curls instead. And what do you think? Alfred told me to-night that it was my devotion to Willie that first made him adore me.”
“And you didn't explain to him?” asked Aggie in amazement.
“And lose him before I'd got him!” exclaimed Zoie.
“It might be better than losing him AFTER you've got him,” concluded the elder girl.