The clear, cold air was making him cheerful in spite of himself, when, as he drew near home after a long walk, he saw two familiar figures in front of him. His spirits immediately fell, for they were Ikey and Dora chatting together most sociably. Carl suddenly felt jealous.
He knew they were great friends, and he never had dreamed of objecting till now that he was himself out of favor. He began to walk slowly that he might not overtake them, his pride keeping him from turning back and going home some other way.
They paused a moment when they reached the corner; then Ikey, with his politest bow, left her and crossed the street. Dora stood waiting. Carl advanced, trying to look unconscious and indifferent.
Her smile changed to a puzzled look, and then became positive astonishment when he was passing without a word.
Always straightforward, she exclaimed, "Why, Carl! Aren't you going to speak to me? I am on my way to your house."
"I thought you would not care to speak to me, you didn't this morning," he answered somewhat loftily.
"Not speak to you? I don't know what you mean."
"You would not this morning," he persisted.
"Oh, I know now! How absurd! Didn't the girls tell you about my glasses getting broken? It must have been when I was going to have them mended. You know I am so near-sighted I can't see across the street without them."
Carl looked rather foolish. Dora had worn glasses only a short time, and he had not noticed their absence.