Page:The Sick-A-Bed Lady.djvu/157

 "But it's my brother's Bossy," protested the Youngish Man.

"Oh, no, it is n't," the Girl explained a little wearily. "It's mine now. It chose between us."

The Youngish Man eyed her with some amusement.

"Did you really see my brother at the house?" he probed.

The Girl nodded, flushing. It was very hot, and she was beginning to feel just a wee bit faint and hungry and irritable.

"Yes, I saw your brother," she reiterated, " but I did n't seem to care for him. I rode by mistake right into the picture he was painting. There's probably paint all over me. It was very awkward, and he did n't do a thing to make it easier. I abominate that kind of person. If a man can't do anything else he can always ask you if you would n't like a drink of water!" She scowled indignantly. "It was the Road's fault anyway! I was just exploring, and the Road cried 'Follow me,' and I followed—a little faster than I meant to—and the Road ran right into your house and shut the door. Oh, slammed the door right in my face!"

"Would you like a drink of water, now?" suggested the Youngish Man.

"No, I thank you," said the Girl, with stubborn dignity, and then weakened to the alluring offer