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"Oh! Oh!" yelled Pete. "You did that on purpose, Tom Swift!" shouted Andy, wiping some of the blacking from his left eye. "I'll have you arrested for that! You've ruined my car, and look at my suit!" "Mine's worse!" murmured Sam, glancing down at his light trousers, which were of the polka-dot pattern now. "No, mine is," insisted Pete, whose white shirt was of the hue of a stove pipe.
Most men of Jo's age were standing before their mirror of a Saturday night, whistling blithely and abstractedly while they discarded a blue polka-dot for a maroon tie, whipped off the maroon for a shot-silk and at the last moment decided against the shot-silk in favor of a plain black-and-white because she had once said she preferred quiet ties.
Budlong in his neat blue serge suit, blue polka-dot scarf, silk stockings, and polished tan oxfords was well groomed and dapper always. "She's driven away our oldest guest." Mr. Budlong lowered his indignant voice a little. "He was a nuisance with his snoring," Wallie defended. "She could have changed her room," said Mrs. Budlong, taking her hand away from him.
Their plight was laughable, and yet pitiable. They were coated with mud from head to foot, and their pretty hats, with their polka-dot bands, were gone too far down the river to be recovered.
He wiped his face with the polka-dot handkerchief, and the word which the Cabinet Minister had used came easily to his lips. "Why didn't you speak to her when you got a chance?" asked Bertie, anxious to divert the blame and meet railing with railing. He was always getting in wrong just trying to help people. Darn it all! Mr. Neelands could still think of no word but the one.
Peter's coat was finished in time for the wedding trust Isaac for that and so was his double-breasted white waistcoat he had not changed the cut in twenty years; and so were his pepper-and-salt trousers and all his several appointments, little and big, even to his polka-dot scarf of blue silk, patent-leather shoes and white gaiters.
Most men of Jo's age were standing before their mirror of a Saturday night, whistling blithely and abstractedly while they discarded a blue polka-dot for a maroon tie, whipped off the maroon for a shot-silk, and at the last moment decided against the shot-silk in favor of a plain black-and-white, because she had once said she preferred quiet ties.
These singular individuals stopped between each step and stood perfectly still, and Dorothy was so surprised at their unusual appearance that she laughed right in the middle of a yawn. In the first place, they never lifted their feet, but pushed them along like skates. The women were dressed in gray polka-dot dresses with huge poke bonnets that almost hid their fat, sleepy, wide-mouthed faces.
"Is it because the Sears-Roebuck mail-order double-bow knot in polka-dot pattern stands as a sign of pristine innocence?" In spite of herself Miss Van Arsdale laughed. "Something of that sort." Io's soft lips straightened. "It's rotten bad form. Why shouldn't he be right? It's so easy. Just a hint " "From you?" "From either of us. Yes; from me, if you like."
"I've changed, this time, I know. I can feel it! I'm different. Shaggy dear Shaggy I am myself again!" Files, who was near the opening, touched the spring that released the big rock and it suddenly swung backward and let in a flood of daylight. Everyone stood motionless, staring hard at Shaggy's brother, who, no longer masked by the polka-dot handkerchief, met their gaze with a glad smile.
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