"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?"