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Finding that Miss Frances had returned, she called to Mr. Leimberg to come for her on his way back from the station library where he was to get his book, and breathlessly she ran to Miss Barbour's door and knocked violently upon it.
Ripple says it's because he's a damanarkist and very dangerous. Mr. Leimberg thinks men like Mr. Ripple ought to be tarred and feathered. He says he'd take the very last cent a person had and give it to blood-suckers like that" and again the red little hand was waved toward the opposite side of the street. "Mr. Ripple collects our rent.
McTarrens's four, and the six Blickers, and the ashman's eight, and the Roysters, and little Sallie Simcoe, and old Mr. Jenkinson, and Miss Becky who mends pants and hasn't any front teeth, and Mr. Leimberg. I'd get him specs. He has to hold his book like this" and the palms of two little red hands were held close to Carmencita's eyes. "Oh, Father, please let him go!"
Heads ducked to keep out of their faces the fast-falling flakes, they trudged along in silence until within a few doors of Mother McNeil's house, and then Carmencita looked up. "Do do you ever pray, Mr. Leimberg pray hard, I mean?" "Pray!" The Damanarkist drew in his breath and laughed with smothered scorn. "Pray! Why should I pray? I cut out prayer when I was a kid. No, I don't pray."
Leimberg drew Carmencita's hand farther through his arm, and his lips twisted in contemptuous pity. "You think there is a magician up oh, somewhere, who makes things happen, do you? Think " "Yes." Carmencita's feet skipped in spite of the clogging snow.
"Do you think people are splendid and grand and magnificent because they live in palaces and wear " "Goodness gracious!" The big blue eyes surveyed the speaker with uncertainty. "Are you one of them, too?" "One what?" "Damanarkists. Mr. Leimberg is one. He hates people who live in palaces and wave wands and have dee-licious things to eat. He don't believe in it. Mr.
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