"Oh, but think of the bacon bats of yesteryear!" mourned Suzanne. "The fingers I've burned! The clothes I've spoiled! The smudges wherewith I've smudged my nose! I begin to feel fatally reminiscent. Give me some more lemonade, I pine to drown my grief."
"And I pine to see the sunset from Lover's Leap." And Sylvia sprang up hastily, perceiving that the sun was already glinting flame and gold through the trees. "Come on everybody or it will be too late." The others rose to follow her lead. Phil fell into step beside Sylvia, leaving Jack to Barbara's society, as Suzanne and Roger had at last struck up a conversation, albeit a rather non-amicable one and strayed off together.
"Are you sure your name isn't Pease Blossom or Mustard Seed? I could swear you were a fairy. Are you really a Militant? Would you resist forcible feeding? Here, let me test you with a pickle."
But Barb only laughed and accepted the pickle.
"I'm nothing militant to-night. I'm at peace with the whole world."
"Even the menacing male?" teased Jack.
"The menacing male is a spoiled baby, biting off his own nose. Mr. Amidon, it would serve you right if I delivered a suffrage lecture here and now. I don't believe you know a thing about the movement," severely.
"Heaven forbid!" he ejaculated piously.
"You will sing a different tune before many years. You'll have it forcibly fed to you unless you take to it of your own accord as babies take to their thumbs."
"I believe I could bear to have even Suffrage rammed into me at your hands, Mademoiselle Mustard Seed, especially if you would make pansy eyes at me while you did it," he added audaciously. "What are you going to do with those eyes of yours anyway? They are altogether too expressive to be wasted on a Cause."