"Shiela! You do!"
"I did in school—" turning pinker under Hamil's tormenting gaze.
"And you do yet! I found an attempt on the floor—in your flowing penmanship," continued the pitiless younger sister. "What is there to blush about? Of course Phil and I were not low enough to read it, but I'll bet it was about somebody we all know! Do you want to bet—Garry?"
"Cecile!" said her mother mildly.
"Yes, mother—I forgot that I'm not allowed to bet, but if I was—"
Shiela, exasperated, looked at her mother, who shook her head and rose from the table, taking Hamil's arm.
"You little imp!" breathed Shiela fiercely to Cecile, "if you plague me again I'll inform Mr. Hamil of what happened to you this morning."
"I don't care; Garry is part of the family," retorted Cecile, flushed but defiant and not exactly daring to add: "or will be soon." Then she put both arms around Shiela, and holding her imprisoned:
"Are you in love?—you darling!" she whispered persuasively. "Oh, don't commit yourself if you feel that way!... And, O Shiela, you should have seen Phil Gatewood following me in love-smitten hops when I wouldn't listen! My dear, the creature managed to plant both feet on my gown as I fled, and the parquet is so slippery and the gown so flimsy and, oh, there was a dreadful ripping sound and we both went down—"
Shiela was laughing now, holding her sister's gesticulating hands, as she rattled on excitedly: