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"And don't you get what-for, if you go in with all your clothes on this way?" "I haven't any clothes on but my rompers," said Judith. "They're just the same as a bathing suit." She snatched back her prerogative of asking questions. "Where did you learn to swim so?" "At the seashore! I get taken there a month every summer. It's the most fun of any of the places I get taken.
This was Peter Porter, who, with his wife, completed the little group on the Tressadys' roomy, shady side porch. "It means my cousin who runs a fruit store," supplied Mrs. Porter a big-boned, superb blonde who was in a deep chair sewing buttons on Timothy Tressady's new rompers. "Even I can see that if I'm not a native of California." "Yes, that's it," Mrs. Tressady said absently.
"He is coming now," said Becky, who sat by the window. "Look, Aunt Claudia." Tramping up the hail towards the second gate was a tall figure in khaki. Resting like a rose-petal on one shoulder was a mite of a child in pink rompers. "He is bringing Fiddle with him," Becky gasped. "Oh, Aunt Claudia, he is bringing Fiddle." Aunt Claudia rose and looked out "Well," she said, "let her come.
"If it does break before you get home it will rain hard and his rompers won't be any protection at all." "Put it on now, Dicky," commanded Ethel Brown. "Stand up." Dicky rose reluctantly. "Why do you fill up your pocket with such stuff," inquired Ethel impatiently.
Cromwell looked coldly at her son. "He will get dirty. Look at that face!" She held her head on one side and regarded it critically. "Isn't he a darling?" repeated Roxanne. "Look at his rompers," frowned Mrs. Cromwell. "He needs a change, don't you, George?" George stared at her curiously. To his mind the word rompers connotated a garment extraneously smeared, as this one.
Cromwell considered, wrinkling her pretty brow. "Five, I think. Plenty, I know." "You can get them for fifty cents a pair." Mrs. Cromwell's eyes showed surprise and the faintest superiority. The price of rompers! "Can you really? I had no idea. He ought to have plenty, but I haven't had a minute all week to send the laundry out."
"I want some kid's clothing," he announced. "To fit a child of three. Rompers, socks, shoes the complete outfit. Charge them to my account and send them over to Nan Brent at the Sawdust Pile. I'll give you a note to enclose with them." Notwithstanding the fact that she was an employe of the Tyee Lumber Company, the girl who waited on him stared at him frankly.
"Plenty of sun," she thought, "and rompers for them all, and sand piles, and toys, and certified milk, and trained nurses " And while she dreamed she hummed to herself in approval, and wasn't aware that the air she hummed was the Spanish Cavalier and wasn't aware that Burdon Woodward was near until she suddenly awoke from her dream and found they were face to face. He turned and walked with her.
The girl's first impulse was to scream for help, but a second glance told her that it was not an animal pushing its way through the twigs, for animals do not wear blue gingham rompers. So she held her breath and waited, and at last she was rewarded by seeing a round, flushed, inquisitive baby face peeping through the leaves at her.
The delight on his face at the discovery of even two or three "cackle-berries," as Whinnie calls them, is worth the occasional breakage and yolk-stained rompers. For I share in that delight myself, since egg-gathering always gives me the feeling that I'm partaking of the bounty of Nature, that I'm getting something for next-to-nothing.
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