Winnie paid no attention to his good morning, but brushing aside his extended hand she began fixing a white rose in the buttonhole of his coat as she said in a soft tone: "Jim, how would you feel if you were a girl and had gone and primed yourself all up nice so as to look sweet as possible, waiting for your fellow to come and say, 'Hello, Winnie, how sweet you look this morning!' but instead to see him come stalking through the trees as though he was monarch of all he surveyed, saying 'good morning, Miss Richardson.' Now, own up, Jim, that you deliberately planned that scheme to frighten me."
"Well, but you see, my dear."
"Yes, Jim, I see. I know all about it. You have been nerving yourself up to show that you did not care for me. You did it nicely. I thought you could not hold out more than a minute, but I think you did about two. And now you're smiling, calling me dear, and will not let go of my hand. You did not sleep well last night, did you?"
"No, I did not."
"Was Mrs. Felker nervous?"
"Yes, she did not sleep a wink before two o'clock."
"And how about Frank?"
"Oh, he always sleeps like a log."
"Say, Jim, why do you take such an interest in Frank; where did the Felkers get him?"
"Boston, or somewhere East."