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Saint Valentine, with a voice that dropped lower and lower into a muffled murmur, read her own name fifteen times in succession, and blushed rose-pink, from gray beard to powdered hair, while the other seniors laughed and laughed. Two minutes after the valentines had been counted and the result announced Bea was waltzing about Berta's room, with that unwilling captive in her arms. "Ho!
"The tickets are bought and paid for." Robbie Belle caught a glimpse of figures emerging from the dining-room. "There come those two seniors who forgot to get seats in advance. Isn't it lucky! Now we can sell them ours." "Give me my ticket," demanded Berta's voice sullenly, "you never cared." "But it is not honest," repeated Robbie Belle stubbornly. "I never thought of it in that light before.
It is a marvel to me how you hoodwink Prexie about your work. Pure luck! Vale!" Berta's repartee consisted of a sofa pillow aimed accurately at the diminishing crack. The next day was Saturday. Bea failed to appear at breakfast a catastrophe which had not occurred before in the memory of the oldest junior.
"Oh, fank you, Mister Colonel," Hammy was saying, with shining eyes of rapture fixed upon the glorious ones; "and is they weally my own, my vewy own, for good?" "Yours and Berta's, really and for good." "And won't you" Hammy's magnificent effort at disinterestedness brought the tears into his eyes "won't you want vem to play wif, ever yourself?"
Berta's voice it was Berta who did the solo here rose in a quavering shriek that halted not for keys in their holes or transoms in their sockets: "The worms crawled in and the worms crawled out, o-o-o-oh!" Miss Cutter rose to her indignant feet. "Roberta Sanders, as you are the corridor warden for this neighborhood, I appeal to you. I make formal complaint " "They've gone."
How is the little dear?" Bea rose with impressive dignity till the straightening of numb muscles inspired an agonized, "Ouch!" and a stiff wriggle. It was every bit Berta's fault, and she evidently didn't care a snap. She would show people whether they could walk all over her and never say boo!
Berta and Lila and I crossed hands and skated around and around the lake with the crowd. When we stopped in the firelight, Lila looked unusually pretty with her rosy cheeks and her curls frosted by her breath. Berta's eyes were like stars. Of course Robbie Belle was beautiful, but she did not associate much with us that evening.
Berta put up her face confidently to be kissed. Hammy, in manly fashion, offered a hand the left the right arm being occupied with the box of toys. As Berta's little legs scampered through the door, he delayed to ask: "What are your playfings, Mister Colonel?" "Live men and big guns, just now, Hammy; and chances and issues, and results and risks."
"A regular Chinese mandarin," she teased, "or are you nodding in your sleep? You approve of Berta's breadth evidently. Why do people always speak about the value of being broadened? I think it is nobler to be deep than broad, I do. I'd rather divide my heart in four pieces than in forty billion."
Won't the girls be delighted with those pictures of the basket ball teams! See, ah, there is the page of photographs. You suggested that the editors should appear as the babies they used to be forty years or so ago. What a dear little curly-head you were at the age of two, Berta! I want to hug you." The embarrassment began to fade from Berta's expression as she gazed at the baby faces before her.
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