"No, I'm not! We were wild kids--we raised a lot of Cain--but I'm glad

we did."

"So am I. I couldn't stand it if you were ashamed. Listen to me, and

remember little Claire's words of wisdom. These fools are trying--oh,

they're so obvious!--they're trying to make me feel that the prim Miss

Boltwood of Brooklyn Heights is a stranger to you. Well, they're

succeeding in making me a stranger--to them!"

"Claire! Dear! You don't mind Bill?"

"Yes. I do. And so do you. You've grown away from him."

"I don't know but---- Today has been quite a test."

"Yes. It has. Because if I can stand your friend Mr. McGolwey----"

"Then you do care!"

"Perhaps. And if I think that he's, oh, not much good, and I remember

that for a long time you just had him to play with, then I'm all the

more anxious to make it up to you."

"Don't be sorry for me! I can't stand that! After all, it was a good

town, and good folks----"

"No! No! I'm not sorry for you! I just mean, you couldn't have had so

terribly much fun, after you were eighteen or so. Schoenstrom must have

been a little dull, after very many years there. This stuff about the

charm of backwoods villages--the people that write it seem to take jolly

good care to stay in Long Island suburbs!"

"Claire!" He was whispering desperately, "The tea's most done. Oh, my

dear. I'm crazy with this puttering around, trying to woo you and having

to woo the entire Gilson tribe. Let's run away!"

"No; first I'm going to convince them that you are--what I know you

are."

"But you can't."

"Huh! You wait! I've thought of the most beautiful, beastly cruel plan

for the reduction of social obesity----"

Then she was jauntily announcing, "Tea, my dears. Jeff, you get the

tooth-mug. Isn't this jolly!"

"Yes. Oh yes. Very jolly!" Jeff was thoroughly patronizing, but she

didn't look offended. She made them drink the acid tea, and taste the

chalk-like bread and butter sandwiches. She coaxed Bill to go on with

his stories, and when the persistent Mrs. Gilson again asked the pariahs

to come to dinner, Claire astonished Milt, and still more astonished

Mrs. Gilson, by begging, "Oh yes, please do come, Milt."

He consented, savagely.

"But first," Claire added to Mrs. Gilson, "I want us to take the boys

to---- Oh, I have the bulliest idea. Come, everybody. We're going

riding."

"Uh, where----?" hinted Mr. Gilson.

"That's my secret. Come!"

Claire pranced to the door, herded all of them down to the limousine,

whispered an address to the chauffeur.

Milt didn't care much for that ride. Bill was somewhat too evidently not

accustomed to limousines. He wiped his shoes, caked with red mud, upon

the seat-cushions, and apologized perspiringly. He said, "Gee

whillikens, that's a dandy idee, telephone to bawl the shuffer out

with," and "Are them flowers real, the bokay in the vase?"




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