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Updated: May 25, 2025
A buzzing sound dying off into the distance, a trail of Blue Smoke in the fading Twilight, and little Bright Eyes is back in her own Boudoir packing herself into a new set of Glads. That evening she had four throbbing Roscoes curled up among her Sofa Pillows. She had to bat up short and easy ones for this Bunch, as they came from the Wholesale District.
Jameson's house, and thus it chanced that they were almost the last comers of the party of children invited to meet the Roscoes. It was a lovely day, and as warm as any summer day, though the autumn was just setting in, and such a group of young children were at play on the grass plat, near the house, that the like Marten nor Reuben had never seen before.
He was about the same age and size as Hector, but his features were mean and insignificant, and there was a shifty look in his eye that stamped him as unreliable. He did not look like the Roscoes, though in many respects he was in disposition and character similar to his father. "It strikes me," he said, with an unpleasant smile, "that you're taking a little too much upon yourself, Hector Roscoe.
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