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"I laid down on the floor and rolled over an' over, a laughin' like anything 'til ma come in, an' she jest looked at that bed, drove Tom out'n the room an' then she took hold er me, an' I, I had ter stop laughin' ter cry 'n Grandma Babson said, 'That boy'll yet come to the gallus."
Evidently the children considered that in Boston one might see strange creatures of every type, and Randy Weston had been privileged to see one of the largest. Just at this moment Hi Babson joined the little group. "Want ter know what I done Saturday?" he asked, his black eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Well, so are the McGurks!" warned O'Brien. "Now, Miss Beekman," said Judge Babson most genially the next morning, after that lady had taken her seat in the witness chair and the jury had answered to their names, "I hope you feel differently to-day about giving your testimony. Don't you think that after all it would be more fitting if you answered the question?"
Justice Babson glowered down upon the cowering defendant flanked by his distinguished counsel, Tutt & Tutt, and upon the two hundred good and true talesmen who, "all other business laid aside," had been dragged from the comfort of their homes and the important affairs of their various livelihoods to pass upon the merits of the issue duly joined between The People of the State of New York and Angelo Serafino, charged with murder.
She would pretend that she had a sweetheart, that with him she was a-roving. Una was not highly successful in her make-believe. She could not picture the imaginary man who walked beside her. She refused to permit him to resemble Walter Babson, and he refused to resemble anybody else.
"That's too bad," said Joe, sympathetically. "I wonder if there's any chance to get on here," went on Babson. "I could help in an animal act I know something about the cats." "You might try," Joe said. "I saw Jim Tracy around a while ago." "What are you doing?" Babson asked. "Same trapeze work?" "Oh, no; I've got a new act Turton's tank. He gave out, you know. Come on in and watch.
"Yes!" said Una affably.... Miss Una Golden, of Panama and the office, did not in the least feel superior to Mr. Eddie Schwirtz's robust commonness. The men she knew, except for pariahs like Walter Babson, talked thus. She could admire Mamie Magen's verbal symphonies, but with Mr. Schwirtz she was able to forget her little private stock of worries and settle down to her holiday. Mr.
I don't mean no disrespect to her; she was a good sport; they don't make 'em any better or finer or truer; but she hadn't never had much chance; she wasn't educated or a live wire, like you are.... You don't mind my saying that, do you? How you mean to me what she meant " "No, I'm glad " she whispered. Unlike the nimble Walter Babson, Mr.
Babson, I'd be glad if I could take care of any papers or anything for you." "Thanks. You might stick these chassis sketches away some place right now." So she was given the chance to keep his desk straight. He turned to her for everything.
In her great surge of emotion, she noticed these posturing hussies far less than she did a little volume of Rosetti, or the overshoes whose worn toes suddenly revealed to her that Walter Babson, the editor, was not rich was not, perhaps, so very much better paid than herself. She did not find the notes. She had to go to the managing editor, trembling, all her good little heart wild with pain.
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