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"I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? Thank you." He had picked it up, and now stood looking at her with wide eyes as blue and innocent as forget-me-nots in a brook. "I know you are offended with me," he said penitently, "for fooling that painted-up wax doll; but what can a fellow do?"
She did see her Aunt Ella, who straightway informed her that people were talking about the way she rode here and there with those painted-up people, and let the men put their arms around her and make love to her. Her Aunt Ella made it perfectly plain to Jean that she, for one, did not consider it respectable.
If it had been a real one, instead of painted-up wood, I would of killed Looey, the lick I give him. The worst part of that was that, after the show, when we got back to camp and the hosses was picketed out fur the night, I had to tell Looey all about how I felt fur an explanation of why I hit him.
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