The quick colour again swept her cheeks at that, but she laughed defiantly:
“Yes,” she said, “I wish you luck in that, also. Only remember this—whether you win or lose you must laugh. That is good sportsmanship. Do you promise? Very well! Then I wish you the best of luck 305 in your—various—courtships! And may the girl you win at least know how to laugh!”
“She certainly does,” he said so naïvely that they both gave way to laughter again, finding each other delightfully absurd.
“It’s the key to my heart, laughter—in case you are looking for the key,” she said daringly. “The world is a grim scaffold, mon ami; mount it gaily and go to the far gods laughing. Tell me, is there a better way to go?”
“No; it’s the right way, Thessa. I shan’t be a gloom any more. Come on; let’s walk! What if you do get your bally shoes wet! I’m through mooning and fussing and worrying over you, young lady! You’re as sturdy and vigorous as I am. After all, it’s a comrade a man wants in the world—not a white mouse in cotton batting! Come! Are you going for a brisk walk across country? Or are you a white mouse?”
She stood up in her dainty shoes and frail gown and cast a glance of hurt reproach at him.
“Don’t be brutal,” she said. “I’m not dressed to climb trees and fences with you.”
“You won’t come?”
Their eyes met in silent conflict for a few moments. Then she said: “Please don’t make me.... It’s such a darling gown, Jim.”
A wave of deep happiness enveloped him and he laughed: “All right,” he said, “I won’t ask you to spoil your frock!” And he spread his coat on the pine needles for her once more.