"What?"
"It is the judgment day."
Jill broke up, so did I; we lay as still as we could. If it were the judgment day—"Jill!" said I.
"Oh, dear me!" sobbed Jill.
We were both crying by that time, and I don't feel ashamed to own up, either.
"If I'd known," said I, "that the day of judgment was coming on the twelfth of August, I wouldn't have been so mean about that jack-knife of yours with the notch in it."
"And I wouldn't have eaten your luncheon that day last winter when I got mad at you," said Jill.
"Nor we wouldn't have cheated mother about smoking, vacations," said I.
"I'd never have played with the Bailey boys out behind the barn," said Jill.
"I wonder where the comet went to?" said I.