“It’s a bit down on Sarah, though,” said the secretary, dubiously.
“Why, I wasn’t there,” said I.
“Weren’t you? that’s all.”
“Let’s hear it,” said my mother, “I dare say he deserves it.”
I forgave the dear traitress for giving me away like this, for I felt sure the minutes would save our evening.
“You see,” said Trimble, “we try to keep it fair, so it’s down on some of the others too. But Sarah gets it a little the hottest.”
“I’m used to getting things hot by now,” said I; “forge ahead, and sit where I can shy the pillow at you.”
Whereupon Langrish moved his chair to a conspicuous place, and read,—
“‘A meeting of the Ph.C.C. was held in dormitory on February 1, at 9 p.m.’”
“Why, that’s when the fire was,” said Trimble.