"
"Oh!" she said. "It's the Gray infant, is it!"
This remark being purely spiteful, I ignored it and sat down to my book,
which concerned the stealing of some famous Emerelds, the heroine being
a girl detective who could shoot the cork out of a bottle at a great
distance, and whose name was Barbara!
It was for that reason Jane had loaned me the book.
I had reached the place where the Duchess wore the Emerelds to a ball,
above white satin and lillies, the girl detective being dressed as a man
and driving her there, because the Duchess had been warned and hautily
refused to wear the paste copies she had--when Sis said, peavishly:
"Why don't you knit or do somthing useful, Bab?"
I do not mind being picked on by my parents or teachers, knowing it is
for my own good. But I draw the line at Leila. So I replied:
"Knit! If that's the scarf you were on at Christmas, and it looks like
it, because there's the crooked place you wouldn't fix, let me tell you
that since then I have made three socks, heals and all, and they are
probably now on the feet of the Allies."
"Three!" she said. "Why THREE?"
"I had no more wool, and there are plenty of one-leged men anyhow."
I would fane have returned to my book, dreaming between lines, as it
were, of the Romanse which had come into my life the day before. It is,
I have learned, much more interesting to read a book when one has, or
is, experiencing the Tender Passion at the time. For during the love
seens one can then fancy that the impasioned speaches are being made to
oneself, by the object of one's afection.
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