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"Say, there " gasped the startled youth, backing away. Betty gave an affrighted cry it was a long swift journey down from where she had just been. Her right hand, reaching drowningly out, fell upon a familiar shoulder. "It's Pudge!" she cried. "Pudge" shaking him "snooping around, listening and trying to spy "
Besides, one passes so many confectioners with their mingled temptation and disgust. Pudge rode on the trolley as far as the city limits. Here there was softer ground underfoot and a hint of melancholy in the fields. A flock of crows going over gave the appropriate note. Off there to the left, set back from the road among dark, crowding trees, stood a mysterious house.
Pudge always insisted that he had known it for mysterious at the first glance. It had a mansard roof and shutters of a sickly green, all closed; there was not a sign of life about, but smoke issued from one of the chimneys. Here was an item potent to raise the sleuth that slumbers in every boy, even in such well-cushioned bosoms as Pudge Sheridan's.
But just then Sim Askinson came up all out of breath and burst through the crowd. Sim is little and meek and has a hard time holding his own, even in our peaceful world. But when he saw Banks, he snorted like a war horse and grew up three inches. "Hello, Pudge, you old son-of-a-gun!" he said, with both hands in his pockets. "Hello, Sim!" said Banks, sort of startled.
Another woman prepared to follow her, gesticulating forcibly to the other not to wait, but to run. Run she did, but it was not until Pudge, lying full length on the buckeye bough, reached her a hand that he discovered her to be his sister's friend, Geneviève Remington.
Presently I began to feel warm all over my body, despite my frozen clothing a condition attributable partly to the peculiar qualities of frozen food, and partly perhaps to the rasping in my interior, produced by the stiff walrus hair that I had eaten. It was now nearly dark, but we could see that the ice-floes were coming together, and crunching up a pudge of soft ice between them.
Why, Sadie and I went skating the night you couldn't find your fat horse and sleigh." "Ya-a-a " yelled Payley, with a sudden shriek of laughter. "Never knew who took your rig, did you, Sim?" "You you " said Sim, glaring at Banks. "You confounded horse thief, I believe you took Sadie in my own sleigh." "Ain't he bright, Pudge," gasped Payley, "only took him thirty years to catch on."
With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of the street car line. In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their chief abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans.
His sister, Betty Sheridan, worked in the law offices directly overhead and possessed a heart of stone. Betty was rich, at least in the eyes of Pudge. Pudge definitely knew this. She had money to buy out the soda fountain. As if a little soda ever hurt anybody. She took it herself, often enough.
Pudge wriggled nervously, locked his feet around behind the legs of the high stool, rubbed a fat forefinger on the edge of the counter, and watched the finger intently with gloomy eyes. "Well, what'll it be, Pudge?" This from Billy Simmons. "My name ain't Pudge." "Very good, Mister Sheridan. What'll it be?" "One of those chocolate marshmallow nut sundaes, I guess, if if "
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