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FLAMING

YOUTH

Pat complained to him, sitting perched on an arm of his ehair with a hand on his shoulder. “Bobs, Dee is moony.” “Ts she? And what is ‘moony’ ?” “You

know

she is,” returned

Pat, scorning to waste

time on obvious definitions. “Isn’t her engagement going all right?” “So far as I can judge. She hasn’t confided in me.” “Bad sign. In some girls it would be a good sign. Not in Dee,” pronounced the oracular Pat with her head on one side like a considering and sagacious bird. “Has she talked to you?” “No; she hasn’t. Bet you she will, though. Dee’s a lot more chummish with me than she used to be.” ‘Because Connie is married. That throws Dee back on you.” “It ought to throw her back on Jimmiejams. I’m not wild

about

T. Jameson

James,

Bobs.

He’s

rather

a

sob.” “What have you got against your future brother-inlaw?” “Oh, he’s so stiff and bumpy. So darn impressed with his own correctness. And it’s mostly bluff. He tried to kiss me last night.” Osterhout’s face darkened for the moment, but he said:

“Why not? You’re only a child to him, and one of the family.” “Brotherly stuff; I know. Only it wasn’t too brotherly. Well,” she laughed knowingly, “I don’t suppose he gets much of that sort of thing from Dee.” “Dee’s a strange little person,” said the doctor absently. ‘“‘She’d be my idea of nothing to be engaged to if I were @ man.”