“Why are men such chumps?” she exclaimed.
“You still have not told me who it is that has caused these harsh words. Do I know him?”
“Of course you do. You’ve just been talking to him.”
“Ferdinand Dibble? But why should you wish to bang Ferdinand Dibble on the head with something hard and heavy with knobs on?”
“Because he’s such a goop.”
“You mean a goof?” I queried, wondering how she could have penetrated the unhappy man’s secret.
“No, a goop. A goop is a man who’s in love with a girl and won’t tell her so. I am as certain as I am of anything that Ferdinand is fond of me.”
“Your instinct is unerring. He has just been confiding in me on that very point.”
“Well, why doesn’t he confide in me, the poor fish?” cried the high-spirited girl, petulantly flicking a pebble at a passing grasshopper. “I can’t be expected to fling myself into his arms unless he gives some sort of a hint that he’s ready to catch me.”
“Would it help if I were to repeat to him the substance of this conversation of ours?”