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"Praise," murmured the young lady sweetly "praise from Major Darcy is praise indeed! When `Haughty Hector' deigns to approve " The big man jumped as if he had been shot, and turned a flushed, excited face upon her. "Wh-at?" he gasped. "What do you say? You know me you know my old home name! Who are you, then? Who can you be?" The girl rose to her feet and stood before him.
She was quite calm and unruffled, and found time to smile at each member of the party before she spoke. "So I was asleep, only they's a fire burning on the carpet of the schoolroom, and it waked me up." "Wh-at?" "They's a fire burning in the miggle of the carpet a blue fire, jest like a plum pudding!"
She wanted to say orphan asylum, but was afraid it would be impolite, and she did not wish to offend any of these friendly appearing children. "It's the Children's Home." "Who owns it?" "Why er I don't know," stammered the second youth, who seemed the oldest of the quartette inside the fence. "I guess the splintered ladies do," remarked the cherub in the grass. "The wh-at?"
"She did not need two pair to keep her feet warm, did she?" "She was twins." "Wh-at?" Peace jumped. "Well, she said she had a sister just her same age at home, who hadn't any shoes at all."
"What do you want here, you tormented rascal?" he yelled in fury, shaking a hazel switch threateningly at her. "I came to get licked," she answered steadily, though quaking inwardly. "Wh-at?" he gasped in unbelieving amazement.
"Neither, sir!" answered Polly promptly. "We are dancing hikers!" "Wh-at?" the man gasped. But the laughing couple waltzed on. Blue had gallantly claimed Juanita Sterling for her second dance, and as they waltzed down to the street they saw the motorists whom they had left beside the road driving toward them. The car stopped, and Mr. Randolph and Miss Puddicombe stepped out.
I shall ask her to buy me a watch-chain like this. . . . Wh-at a lo-ket! Father's got a locket like that, only yours has little bars on it and his has letters. . . . There's mother's portrait in the middle of his. Father has a different sort of chain now, not made with rings, but like ribbon. . . ." "How do you know? Do you see your father?" "I? M'm . . . no . . . I . . ."
"How nice it would be if little folks were invited to grown-up parties," finished Peace, who seemed possessed of only that one idea. "That's just what I have been thinking, too," was the surprising confession from the tall man on the hearth rug. "Wh-at!"
"Wh-at?" interrupted Miss Polly, the look of stupefaction on her face changing to one of angry indignation. Jimmy sighed despairingly. "There, I didn't mean ter make ye mad. That's why I begun by tellin' ye about her walkin' again. I thought you'd listen ter that." "Jimmy, what are you talking about?" Jimmy sighed again. "That's what I'm tryin' ter tell ye." "Well, then tell me.
Peggy's voice grew shrill with excitement. "The Piccadilly Magazine." "Wh-at!" Robert grabbed at the envelope, read the words himself, and stared at her with sparkling eyes. "It is! It's the prize, Mariquita! It must be. What else would they write about? Open it and see. Quick! Shall I do it for you?" "Yes, yes!" cried Peggy breathlessly.
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