"Sorry to disappoint you," he replied cheerfully. "As Frank remarked
unflatteringly this morning, 'You are far from being a dead one--go and
reform.'"
"Was he speaking of me?" demanded Mollie Billette in deadly quiet, but Roy
raised a placating hand.
"No, no, of course not," he said hurriedly. "He was speaking of me, poor
worm that I am. But, I say," he added, looking around at the busily flying
needles, "what's the idea of the knitting. We've got more sweaters and
things than we know what to do with now."
Mollie lifted her eyes long enough to give him a withering glance.
"Do you think you're the only ones we care about?"
"I hope so," he responded promptly and daringly.
"Do you think maybe we'd better leave, Betty?" inquired Grace with
delicately lifted eyebrows, while Mollie flushed scarlet.
"If you do, I'll never speak to you again," cried the latter, in alarm,
adding, to change the subject: "Where are the other boys, Roy? You usually
travel in fours."
"Well, as long as you didn't say on all fours, it's all right," responded
Roy in a weak attempt at a joke that focused three pairs of girlish eyes
scornfully upon him.
"Roy!" they chorused.
"All right, don't shoot," he pleaded. "What was that you asked me,
Mollie?"
"I asked you," returned Mollie, with deliberation, "where the other boys
were."
"I don't know, and what's more I don't care," replied Roy independently,
leaning back and crossing his long legs with a sigh of content.
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