"I didn't think he seemed so very much in a hurry to get back to the
library," observed Ted. "When I went down to the kitchen after the corn
I looked in the door and he was sitting at the desk looking out of the
window. But then I look out of the window myself at school," he
admitted.

"Ted, shall we take this path or the other?" asked his sister, halting
where three trails across the meadow diverged.

"This one will be the wettest," said he promptly. "But I like it best."

"Then we'll take it." And she plunged ahead.

"I say, Rob, but you're a true sport!" acknowledged her young brother
with admiration. "Any girl I know would have wanted the dry path."

"Dry?" Roberta showed him a laughing profile over her shoulder. "Where
all paths are soaking, why be fastidious? The wetter we are the more
credit for keeping jolly, as Mark Tapley would say. Lead on, MacDuff!"

"You seem to be leading yourself," shouted Ted, as she unexpectedly
broke into a run.

"It's only seeming, Ted," she called back. "Whenever a woman seems to be
leading, you may take my word for it she's only following the course
pointed out by some man. But--when she seems to be following, look out
for her!"

But of this oracular statement Ted could make nothing and wisely did not
try. He was quite content to splash along in Rob's wake, thinking