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           "There’salwaysabunchofshyfellas,"hecommented,"sittingatthetailofthebob,sortalurkin’an’whisperin’an’pushin’eachotheroff.Thenthere’salwayssomecrazycross-eyedgirl"—hegaveaterrifyingimitation—"she’salwaystalkin’hard,sorta,tothechaperon."

           "You’resuchafunnyboy,"puzzledMyra.

           "Howd’y’mean?"Amorygaveimmediateattention,onhisowngroundatlast.

           "Oh—alwaystalkingaboutcrazythings.Whydon’tyoucomeski-ingwithMarylynandIto-morrow?"

           "Idon’tlikegirlsinthedaytime,"hesaidshortly,andthen,thinkingthisabitabrupt,headded:"ButIlikeyou."Heclearedhisthroat."Ilikeyoufirstandsecondandthird."

           Myra’seyesbecamedreamy.WhatastorythiswouldmaketotellMarylyn!Hereonthecouchwiththiswonderful-lookingboy—thelittlefire—thesensethattheywerealoneinthegreatbuilding—

           Myracapitulated.Theatmospherewastooappropriate.

           "Ilikeyouthefirsttwenty-five,"sheconfessed,hervoicetrembling,"andFroggyParkertwenty-sixth."

           Froggyhadfallentwenty-fiveplacesinonehour.Asyethehadnotevennoticedit.

           ButAmory,beingonthespot,leanedoverquicklyandkissedMyra’scheek.Hehadneverkissedagirlbefore,andhetastedhislipscuriously,asifhehadmunchedsomenewfruit.Thentheirlipsbrushedlikeyoungwildflowersinthewind.

           "We’reawful,"rejoicedMyragently.Sheslippedherhandintohis,herheaddroopedagainsthisshoulder.