“No,” agreed the other masculine observer. “They always look jolly nice, anyhow. I never can make out what they do, to keep ’em so long.”
“Oh, tie each other’s hair ribbons, and swap neckties, and things like that,” said Jim, vaguely. “Nobody ever knows what girls are up to. Of course, Norah never seemed quite like a girl until she went to school. But you can see there’s a difference now.”
“Well—a little,” Wally answered. “But she’s up to all sorts of larks yet, thank goodness.”
“Well, I should say so,” said Jim, staring. “They’d have to boil Norah before they made her prim; and that’s a comfort. I rather fancy she must have had a pretty woeful time when she went to school first.”
“Pretty rough on her,” Wally agreed. “She’ll be growing up next, I suppose—worse luck.”
“Norah—oh, rot,” said Jim, firmly. “She’s only a kid yet—and will be for ages. Don’t you go and put ideas like that into her head, Wal.”
“Me?” rejoined his chum. “What do you take me for? But she’ll get ’em put in at school, you’ll see, quick enough.” And Jim glowered, muttering something unkindly about school and its by-paths of learning.
“Well, I wish they’d hurry up, anyhow,” he said. “Wonder what’s keeping them.”
From behind them came a faint snore, and he swung round. Jean and Norah were already mounted, their heads drooping on their horses’ necks, in attitudes of extreme boredom. They gave the impression of having sat there for many hours, and finally succumbed to fatigue and slumber. The boys burst into laughter.
“Well, of all the idiots,” said Jim, ungallantly. “How did you get there?”