Perhaps she will if you speak to her.

But don't worry about Bart; that will wear itself out.

All young girls must have their love-affairs." Jane's voice had lacked the ring of true sincerity when she spoke about "wearing itself out," and Martha had gone to her room more dissatisfied than before.

This feeling became all the more intense when, the next day, from her window she watched Bart tying on Lucy's hat, puffing out the big bow under her chin, smoothing her hair from the flying strings.
Lucy's eyes were dancing, her face turned toward Bart's, her pretty lips near his own.

There was a knot or a twist, or a collection of knots and twists, or perhaps Bart's fingers bungled, for minutes passed before the hat could be fastened to suit either of them.