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Robert has to drift along and complicate matters by joshin' brother-in-law a little. "Congratulations on your substitute, Ferdie," says he. "Where did he come from?" Which brings a ruddy tint into Ferdie's ears. "Ask Marjorie," says he. "I'm sure he's an utter stranger to me." "Wha-a-at?" says Mr.
You see, I'm stupid, and caring caring awfully might make me stupider. Have people got to understand each other?" To that she replied astonishingly, "Are you quite sure you understand about Ferdie?" "Ferdie?" "Yes." She turned her face full to him. "I don't know whether you know about it. I didn't till Mother told me the other day. I'm Ferdie's daughter. "Did you know?" "Oh, Lord, yes.
"I knew Ferd would regret this balcony!" pursued Sally, eyes to the crack. "Ferdie's not regretting it!" tittered her sister. Sally cast her a withering glance. Elsie devoted herself suddenly to George. "Go down and lure them into the garden," pleaded Sally, presently.
I saw one last night. It came into the room just after I got into bed." "You can see them," Nicky said. "Ferdie's seen heaps. It runs in his family. He told me." "He never told me." "Rather not. He was afraid you'd be frightened." "Well, I wasn't frightened. Not the least little bit." "I shall tell him that. He wanted most awfully to know whether you saw them too." "Me?
And, with her livin' down in Alabama or Georgia somewhere, maybe it looked safe at the time. But now she was on her way to the White Mountains for a summer flit, and she'd just remembered Marjorie for the first time in three years. "Goodness!" says Marjorie, whisperin' husky across the hall. "Someone ought to go right down to meet her. I can't, of course; and Ferdie's only begun to dress."
Say, she's a good sort, Joey; bully fun, and always in for anything. You ought to see her shoot! Yes, Sir! Bring down quail with a choke-bore, or knock over a buck deer with a rifle. Plays billiards like a wizard, Joey does, and can swat a golf ball off the tee for two hundred yards. She's a star. Staying at Ferdie's, eh? Must be a great combination, she and Sukey. I'd like to see 'em together.
She'll be a kid for ages. Nicky'll have married somebody else before she's got her hair up." "Then Ronny'll fall in love with him, and get her little heart broken." "She won't, Mummy, she won't. They only talk like that because they think Ferdie's Ronny's father." "Dorothy!" Frances, in horror, released herself from that protecting arm.
"Laziness!" repeated Ferdie sternly. "'Tis a vice that I abhor. Slip me a smoke." Francis Charles fumbled in the cypress humidor at Ferdie's elbow; he leaned over the table and gently closed Ferdie's finger and thumb upon a cigarette. "Match," sighed Ferdie. Boland struck a match; he held the flame to the cigarette's end. Ferdie puffed. Then he eyed his friend with judicial severity.
"I strongly suspect," he goes on, "that a certain young lady may be among those present." "Oh!" says I, pinkin' up some, I expect. "Much obliged. In that case I'm strong for music. Some swell piano performer, eh?" "A young violinist," says Mr. Robert, "a friend of Ferdie's, I believe, who " "Bet a million it's Sukey!" breaks in Nutt. "Blair Hiscock, isn't it!" "That is his name," admits Mr.
That was it, and from Ferdie's description I gathered that old Adam K. was a reg'lar domestic tornado, once he got started. Maybe you know the brand? And it seems Pa Pulsifer was the limit.
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