"
"But I don't say I can. I say only that I'll try."
"That's enough for me. Ready! Now, brace yourself. I'm coming
down."
"Wh--why--wait! Can't you send it down?"
"No. Besides, you KNOW you want to see me. No use pretending,
after last time. Remember your verse now, and I'll come slowly."
Solemnly he began:--
"Scarab, tarantula, neurop--"
"'Doodle-bug,'" she prompted severely.
"--doodle-bug, flea,"--
he concluded obediently.
"Scarab, tarantula, doodle-bug, flea.
Scarab, tarantula, doodle--"
"Oof! I--I--didn't think you'd be here so soon!"
He scrambled to his feet, hardly less palpitating than on the
occasion of their first encounter.
"Hopeless!" she mourned. "Incurable! Wanted: a miracle of St.
Vitus. Do stop nibbling your hat, and sit down."
"I don't think it's as bad as it was," he murmured, obeying. "One
gets accustomed to you."
"One gets accustomed to anything in time, even the eccentricities
of one's friends."
"Do you think I'm eccentric?"
"Do I think--Have you ever known any one who didn't think you
eccentric?"
Upon this he pondered solemnly.
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