"Did you see her?"
"Does Causton say she's going?"
"Ssssh—not all at once!——"
"No, I'm not going," said Louie.
Mouths gaped their very widest to make up for the inaudibility of the cheers.
"Hooray!"
"Is she going?"
"No, she's not going—hooray!"
Burnett Minor threw her book joyfully into the book-locker. Ordinarily her reading varied between an adoration of Tennyson and mocking and dramatic declamations either from the "Pansy Library," or from its brother-classics, of which the typical burlesque is "The Blood-stained Putty-knife, or The Plumber's Revenge." But this book was her album.
"I saw you come down dressed, and I did want you to put something in it if you were going," she whispered gleefully; "but you're not going! Hoo——"