Sally shook her head slowly. "There's nothing the matter, Henrietta. I was only thinking what a lucky man Dick is."
The flush on Henrietta's face deepened. "Oh, do you think so, Sally?" she asked softly. "Do you really think so? I was a little bit afraid you didn't approve. And how about me? Don't you think I'm a lucky girl?"
"Very," answered Sally, smiling still. "Dick is everything that's good. He's the one best man for you. But why did you think that I might not approve?"
"We—ll," said Henrietta with some hesitation, bending forward to look at her swinging feet, then looking up at Sally, "I—I went after him in such a barefaced manner, and you knew it." Sally shook her head again. "Oh, yes, you did. It's no use to shake your gory locks at me. You knew I did; the very night of your fire. I don't deny it. I did go after him with all my might and I got him." She spoke triumphantly. "I'm glad I went after him, for—for I never should have got him at all if I had not. I'm proud of it, but I don't advertise it, generally. I confess it to you, but I should deny the fact to anybody else. Wild horses shouldn't drag it out of me. Not ever! And then, Sally, another reason why I was a little afraid you wouldn't approve—" Henrietta hesitated again, stopped, and once more regarded her feet.
"Well?" Sally asked, amused.
"Well." Henrietta looked up and smiled. "To tell the truth, I couldn't believe that you didn't want him yourself. There! It's out. Just a little, Sally."
Sally laughed. "Not even just a little, Henrietta. Dick is a dear friend—he has been that to me always, ever since his kite and Everett's broke my foot—and I hope he always will be; but the idea of falling in love with each other never entered either of our heads. So you may be quite easy in your mind. My heart isn't even bent."
"But you know," Henrietta insisted, "that you could have got him if you had tried as hard as I did."
"I guess not," Sally replied; "not after you appeared, anyway. You needn't distress yourself. I remember that I used to look upon Dick and Everett with adoration, as a little girl. They were my ideals. When they carried me home, after the kite accident, I was in the seventh heaven. But there was nothing, even then. No, Dick is all yours, as far as I am concerned."
Henrietta breathed a sigh. "Well, I'm glad to be sure of it. But, Sally," she continued, with a doubtful glance, as if she were a little afraid of Sally and of what she was about to ask, "how about Everett? Was there ever—?"