He giggled.

“No, now, really.  I wish you’d write that down somewhere.  You can get those things so cheap in Paris.”

“You are supposing the case of my return, or of Christmas intervening, or—­a present of some kind, I suppose.”

“Well, no; not exactly.  Although you know I am always broke—­”

“Don’t I, though?”

“And that I am still in debt—­”

“Because papa insists upon your putting some money in the bank every month—­”

“Yes, and the result is that I never get my head above water.  I owe you twenty now.”

“Which I never expect to recover, because you know I always get silly about Christmas and ‘forgive thee thy debts.’”

“You’re awful good—­” he began.

“But I’ll be better if I bring you gloves and silk stockings.”

“I’ll give you the money!” he said, heroically.  “Will you borrow it of me or of mamma?” I asked, with a chuckle at the family financiering which always goes on in this manner.

“Now don’t make fun of me! You don’t know what it is to be hard up.”

“Don’t I, though?” I said, indignantly.  “Oh—­oh!  Catch me!”

He seized my handle-bar and righted me before I fell off.

“See what you did by saying I never was hard up,” I said.  “I’ll tell you what, Teddy.  You needn’t give me the money.  I’ll bring you some gloves and stockings!”

“Oh, I say, honest?  Oh, but you’re the right kind of a sister!  I’ll never forget that as long as I live.  You do look so nice on your wheel.  You sit so straight and—­”

I saw a milkman coming.  We three were the only objects in sight, yet I headed for him.

“Get out of my way,” I shrieked at him.  “I’m a beginner.  Turn off!”

He lashed his horse and cut down a side street.

“What a narrow escape,” I sighed.  “How glad I am I happened to think of that.”

I looked up pleasantly at Ted.  He was biting his lips and he looked raging.

“You are the most hopeless girl I ever saw!” he burst out.  “I wish you didn’t own a wheel.”

“I don’t,” I said.  “The wheel owns me.”

“You haven’t the manners of—­”

“Stockings,” I said, looking straight ahead.  “Silk stockings with polka dots embroidered on them, No. 10.”

Ted looked sheepish.

“I ride so well,” I proceeded.  “I sit up so straight and look so nice.”

No answer.

“Gloves,” I went on, still without looking at him.  “White and pearl ones for evening, and russet gloves for the street, No. 8.”

“Oh, quit, won’t you?  I’m sorry I said that.  But if you only knew how you mortify me.”

“Cheer up, Tedcastle.  I am going away, you know.  And when I come back you will either have got over caring so much or I will be more of a lady.”

“I’m sorry you are going,” said my brother.  “But as you are going, perhaps you will let me use your rooms while you are gone.  Your bed is the best one I ever slept in, and your study would be bully for the boys when they come to see me.”