Slapping Jimmy upon the shoulder in a condescending spirit,
Alfred suggested that they all sit down and have a chat.
"Oh, how nice," chirped the small person.
Jimmy felt an irresistible desire to run, but the picture of
himself, in his very stout person, streaking across the campus to
the giggled delight of Miss Fluff, soon brought him submissively
to the seat, where he sat twiddling his straw hat between his
fingers, and glancing uncertainly at Alfred, who was thoughtful
enough to sit next him.
"Goodness, one could almost dance out here, couldn't one?" said
the small person, named Zoie, as her eyes roved over the bit of
level green before them.
"Would you like to try?" asked Alfred, apparently agreeable to
her every caprice.
"I'd love it!" cried Zoie. "Come along." She sprang up and held
out her hands to him.
"I'm going to be unselfish," answered Alfred, "and let Jimmy have
that fun."
By this time, Jimmy had been seized with an intuitive feeling
that his friend was in immediate danger.
"Was this the young woman who was to sit opposite the fireside
five nights a week and systematise Alfred's life?"
Jimmy stared at the intruder blankly. For answer, two small
hands were thrust out toward him and an impatient little voice
was commanding him to "Come, dance." He heard Alfred's laughter.
He had no intention of accommodating the small person in this or
any other matter, yet, before he realised quite how it had
happened, he was two-stepping up and down the grass to her piping
little voice; nor did she release him until the perspiration came
rolling from his forehead; and, horror of horrors, his one-time
friend, Alfred, seemed to find this amusing, and laughed louder
and louder when Jimmy sank by his side exhausted.
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