"Sleepy?" called Wilbur.
She waited a moment and then queried with exaggerated impudence:
"Well?"
Ennui unspeakable was in that drawling monotone.
"Brace up; I've got news for you. And I've brought Pierre along to
tell you about it."
"Oh!"
And she sat bolt upright with shining eyes. Instantly she remembered
to yawn again, but her glance smiled on them above her hand.
She apologized. "Awfully sleepy, Dick."
But he was not deceived. He said: "There's a dance down near the
Barnes place, and Pierre wants you to go with him."
"Pierre! A dance?"
He explained: "Dick's lost his head over a girl with yellow hair, and
he wants me to go down and see her. He thought you might want to go
along." Her face changed like the moon when a cloud blows across it.
She answered with another slow, insolent yawn: "Thanks! I'm staying
home tonight."
Wilbur glared his rage covertly at Pierre, but the latter was blandly
unconscious that he had made any _faux pas_.
He said carelessly: "Too bad. It might be interesting.
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