"And she may not!" he retorted,
"I believe it!" she proclaimed, carried away by the imaginary scene she had evoked.
"Well," said Ted, with his most exasperating tone of superior intelligence, "I don't!"
She glanced up at him as he trudged beside her, his face firm with his substantial beliefs, his feet sturdily treading a very solid earth. And though she was only a little girl, unlearned in the finger-posts of character, Sheila felt what she could not name nor analyze. She remembered that she had almost told him her dream, and she shivered at the thought.
"No," she remarked ruefully, "you don't believe anything that you can't see, do you, Ted?"
"I don't believe lies!" he replied crisply, "not even when I tell 'em myself."
"Lies?" she repeated in astonishment.
He stopped and faced her. "Look here! You said you couldn't let your grandmother think you came home with the rest of 'em when you didn't because that would be lying."
"Yes," agreed Sheila with conviction.
"But you let Lisbeth think what wasn't so!"