some cuffs and collars in her hand, and something that her aunt Maria
had said recurred to her. She looked up into the intensely interested
face of the boy, and then laughed, bowing her forehead on the back
of the hand that held these bits of linen.

The boy blushed. "What are you laughing at?" he asked, half piteously,
half indignantly, like a boy used to being badgered.

"Oh, nothing," said Lydia. "My aunt told me if any of these things
should happen to want doing up, I had better get the stewardess to
help me." She looked at the boy in a dreadfully teasing way, softly
biting her lip.

"Oh, if you're going to begin _that_ way!" he cried in affliction.

"I'm not," she answered, promptly. "I like boys. I've taught school
two winters, and I like boys first-rate."

Thomas was impersonally interested again. "Time! _You_ taught
school?"

"Why not?"

"You look pretty young for a school-teacher!"

"Now you're making fun of me," said Lydia, astutely.

The boy thought he must have been, and was consoled. "Well, you
began it," he said.