Gradually the sober
light in their eyes faded away and feeble smiles developed into peals of
laughter. The irony of the situation bore down upon them irresistibly
and their genuine, healthy young minds saw the picture in all of its
ludicrous colorings. Not even the prospect of a night in mid-air could
conquer the wild desire to laugh.
"Isn't it too funny for words?" she laughed bravely through her tears.
Then, for some reason, both relapsed into dark, silent contemplation of
the dog who was so calmly enjoying his evening repast.
"I am sorry to admit it, Mr. Crosby, but I am growing frightfully
hungry," she said wistfully.
"It has just occurred to me that I haven't eaten a bite since seven
o'clock this morning," he said.
"You poor man! I wish I could cook something for you."
"You might learn."
"You know what I mean," she explained, reddening a bit. "You must be
nearly famished."
"I prefer to think of something more interesting," he said coolly.
"It is horrid!" she sobbed. "See, it is getting dark. Night is coming.
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