She would have laughed at this fancy had she not taken a look at Dorothy’s face again.
“Good-night!” she shouted into her chum’s ear, hugged her tight, kissed her loudly, and ran away into her own room. Once there, she cried all the time she was disrobing, getting into her lacy nightgown, and pulling down the bedclothes.
Then she did not immediately go to bed. Instead, she tiptoed back to the connecting door and closed it softly. She turned on the hanging electric light over the desk.
“I’ll do it!” she said, with determined mien. “I’ll write to Lance Petterby.” And she did so.
CHAPTER XV
THE SLIDE ON SNAKE HILL
Joe and Roger marched down at an early breakfast hour from the upper regions of the big white house, singing energetically if not melodiously a pæan of joy:
“‘The frog he would a-wooing go——
Bully for you! Bully for all!
The frog he would a-wooing go——
Bully for all, we say!’”