“Do you know much about Ted, Miss Allyn?”
“No, not much, dear—not nowadays; but why do you ask?”
“Oh, because—well, I suppose I ought not to say it, but we're awfully disappointed in Ted. He wasn't ever half so nice as Harold, was he?”
“Oh, yes, he was—just as nice every bit; though we English people think that word nice of yours is so very queer. You have heard, haven't you”—for Miss Aliyn was quite willing to change the subject—“of the Englishman who said to a young girl whom he met on the steamer, 'You Americans use nice so much, I think it's a nasty word;' and of how she turned and archly said, 'And do you think nasty is a nice word?'”
“Dood for her,” said Albert, thankful that the conversation had once more grown intelligible.
“But nobody thinks Ted is so nice now, do they?” for Marie-Celeste preferred to keep to the main point.
“No, I'm afraid not; but they would if he would let them, I'm sure, for he had the makings of a splendid fellow in him.”
“He used to be Dorothy's best friend, didn't he, Dorothy?”
“Yes, he did, Albert, and I miss him very much. He and Harry are great friends still. Harry's my big brother, Marie-Celeste.”
“Why doesn't he tom to see us now, Dorothy?” Albert questioned.