But Aggie and I said nothing. We knew Tish never walked in her sleep.
She had meant to try out Jasper's racing-car at dawn, forgetting that
racers have no mufflers, and she had been, as one may say, hoist with
her own petard--although I do not know what a petard is and have never
been able to find out.

We drank our tea, but Tish refused to have any or to reply to our
knocks, preserving a sulky silence. Also she had locked Aggie out and
I was compelled to let her sleep in my room.

I was almost asleep when Aggie spoke:--

"Did you think there was anything queer about the way that Jasper boy
said good-night to Bettina?" she asked drowsily.

"I didn't hear him say good-night."

"That was it. He didn't. I think"--she yawned--"I think he kissed her."




II


Tish was down early to breakfast that morning and her manner forbade any
mention of the night before. Aggie, however, noticed that she ate her
cereal with her left hand and used her right arm only when absolutely
necessary. Once before Tish had almost broken an arm cranking a car and
had been driven to arnica compresses for a week; but this time we dared