“You don’t even talk most of the time,” went on William scornfully, “’cause I’ve watched you. You sit lookin’—jus’ lookin’—at each other like wot you used to with Miss Crane an’ Miss Blake an’ Miss—what was she called? An’ it does look soft, let me tell you, to anyone watchin’ through the window.”
Robert rose with murder in his eye.
“Shut up and get out!” he roared.
William shut up and got out. He sighed as he wandered into the garden. It was like Robert to get into a temper just because somebody asked him quite politely what Leap Year was.
Ethel, William’s grown-up sister, was in the drawing-room.
“Ethel,” said William, “why’s it called Leap Year?”
“Because of February 29th,” said Ethel.
“Well,” said William, with an air of patience tried beyond endurance, “if you think that’s any answer to anyone askin’ you why’s it Leap Year—if you think that’s an answer that means anythin’ to any ornery person....”
“You see, everything leaps on February 29th,” said his sister callously; “you wait and see.”
William looked at her in silent scorn for a few moments, then gave vent to his feelings.