The rest that Adelaide had been going to say was drowned, because just then came the signal for the closing song, and soon the Council Fire was over.
“What on earth were you talking to Adelaide Hughes so long about?” demanded Louise curiously as they walked home, for their ways lay together.
“Oh, just things,” was Winona’s answer. “I think she’s awfully shy, and a little afraid of the rest of us, Lou.”
“And you think we ought to make a special fuss over her?” said Louise mournfully. “I knew that was coming. Well, I suppose we will—Helen and I always do what you tell us to. I wish I were shy, and people ran around saying, ‘we really must make an effort to draw poor little timid Louise out!’”
Winona burst out laughing—the idea of “poor, little, timid Louise” was so irresistibly funny.
“It’s going to be a gorgeous dance, though.” Louise went on. “Wasn’t it splendid of the Scouts to think of doing it? And what about my being right?”
“You certainly were right,” Winona admitted. “Are you sure you don’t mind going on alone?”
For they had reached the Merriam house.
“Not a bit,” said Louise cheerfully. “It’s only a block, anyway. Good-night, honey.”