“ My forfeit,” he explained. “Come on, Paul, again.” And again they sang and clapped:
“ Jong-Keena, Jong-Keena,
Jong-Jong, Keena-Keena,
Yo-ko-ham-a, Nag-a-sak-i,
Kobe-mar-o—hoy!!! ”
This time, with the hoy , her hands were closed and his were open.
“ Forfeit!—forfeit!” the girls cried.
She looked her costume over with alarm, asking, “What can I give?”
“ A hair pin,” d**k advised; and one of her turtleshell hair pins joined his hat in Lute’s lap.
“ Bother it!” she exclaimed, when the last of her hair pins had gone the same way, she having failed seven times to d**k’s once. “I can’t see why I should be so slow and stupid. Besides, d**k, you’re too clever. I never could out-guess you or out-anticipate you.”
Again they sang the song. She lost, and, to Mrs. Tul
