"Who is she?" asked Will, looking incredulous.
"'T ain't me," answered Dora, more truthfully than grammatically.
"No, I guess not; and I guess you don't know any such girl."
Dora wheeled around and called, "Tilly, Tilly Morris! Come here and prove to this conceited, contradicting boy that I'm telling the truth."
"Oh, it's Tilly Morris, eh?" sung out Will.
"Yes," answered Tilly, turning and looking down at the occupant of the hammock; "I think 'Jack Hall' is the jolliest kind of a book. I've read it twice."
Will jerked himself up into a sitting posture, as he ejaculated in pleased astonishment,—
"Come, I say now!"
"Yes," went on Tilly; "I think it's one of the best books I ever read,—that part about the boat-race I've read over three or four times."
"Well, your head is level," cried Will, sitting up still straighter in the hammock, and regarding Tilly with a look of respect.