Then she writhed in spirit again.

It sounded so bold--so eager--as if she were fairly jumping at him! What would he think of her?
Oh, why did dreadful things like this happen, just when a girl wanted to appear at her best?
Kenneth drew her in among the dancers.
"I think this game ankle of mine is good for one hop around, at least," he said.
"How is your ankle ?" said Rilla.

Oh, why couldn't she think of something else to say?
She knew he was sick of inquiries about his ankle.

She had heard him say so at Ingleside--heard him tell Di he was going to wear a placard on his breast announcing to all and sundry that the ankle was improving, etc.

And now she must go and ask this stale question again.
Kenneth was tired of inquiries about his ankle.