Seventeen [27]
of Miss Pratt was not to them what it was to William. ``I tell you,'' he declaimed;-- ``yes, I tell you that it wouldn't take much of this kind of thing to make Miss Pratt think the people of this town were--well, it wouldn't take much to make her think the people of this town hadn't learned much of how to behave in society and were pretty uncilivized!'' He corrected himself . ``Uncivilized! And to think Miss Pratt has to find that out in MY house! To think--''
``Now, Willie,'' said Mrs. Baxter, gently, ``you'd better go up and brush your hair again before your friends come. You mustn't let yourself get so excited.''
`` `Excited!' '' he cried, incredulously. ``Do you think I'm EXCITED? Ye gods!'' He smote his hands together and, in his despair of her intelligence, would have flung himself down upon a chair, but was arrested half-way by simultaneous loud outcries from his mother and Jane.
``Don't sit on the CAKES!'' they both screamed.
Saving himself and the pan of wafers by a supreme contortion at the last instant, William decided to remain upon his feet. ``What do I care for the cakes?'' he demanded, contemptuously, beginning to pace the floor. ``It's the question of principle I'm talking about! Do you think it's right to give the people of this town a poor name when strangers like Miss PRATT come to vis--''
``Willie!'' His mother looked at him hopelessly. ``Do go and brush your hair. If you could see how you've tousled it you would.''
He gave her a dazed glance and strode from the room.
Jane looked after him placidly. ``Didn't he talk funny!'' she murmured.
``Yes, dear,'' said Mrs. Baxter. She shook her head and uttered the enigmatic words, ``They do.''
``I mean Willie, mamma,'' said Jane. ``If it's anything about Miss Pratt. he always talks awful funny. Don't you think Willie talks awful funny if it's anything about Miss Pratt, mamma?''
``Yes, but--''
``What, mamma?'' Jane asked as her mother paused.
``Well--it happens. People do get like that at his age, Jane.''
``Does everybody?''
``No, I suppose not everybody. Just some.''
Jane's interest was roused. ``Well, do those that do, mamma,'' she inquired, ``do they all act like Willie?''
``No,'' said Mrs. Baxter. ``That's the trouble; you can't tell what's coming.''
Jane nodded. ``I think I know,'' she said. ``You mean Willie--''
William himself interrupted her. He returned violently to the doorway, his hair still tousled, and, standing upon the threshold, said, sternly:
``What is that child wearing her best dress for?''
``Willie!'' Mrs. Baxter cried. ``Go brush your hair!''
``I wish to know what that child is all dressed up for?'' he insisted.
``To please you! Don't you want her to look her best at your tea?''
``I thought that was it!'' he cried, and upon this confirmation of his worst fears he did increased violence to his rumpled hair. ``I suspected it, but I wouldn't 'a' believed it! You mean to let this child--you mean to let--'' Here his agitation affected his throat and his utterance became clouded. A few detached phrases fell from him: ``--Invite MY friends--children's party--ye gods!--think Miss Pratt plays dolls--''
``Jane will be very good,'' his mother said. ``I shouldn't think of not having her, Willie, and you needn't bother about your friends; they'll be very glad to see her. They all know her, except Miss Pratt, perhaps, and--'' Mrs. Baxter paused; then she asked, absently: ``By the way, haven't I heard somewhere that she likes pretending to be a little girl, herself?''
``WHAT!''
``Yes,'' said Mrs. Baxter, remaining calm; ``I'm sure I've heard somewhere that she likes to talk `baby-talk.' ''
Upon this a tremor passed over William, after which he became rigid. ``You ask a lady to your house,'' he began, ``and even before she gets here, before you've even seen her, you pass judgment upon one of the--one of the noblest--''
``Good gracious! _I_ haven't `passed judgment.' If she does talk `baby-talk,' I imagine she does it very prettily, and
``Now, Willie,'' said Mrs. Baxter, gently, ``you'd better go up and brush your hair again before your friends come. You mustn't let yourself get so excited.''
`` `Excited!' '' he cried, incredulously. ``Do you think I'm EXCITED? Ye gods!'' He smote his hands together and, in his despair of her intelligence, would have flung himself down upon a chair, but was arrested half-way by simultaneous loud outcries from his mother and Jane.
``Don't sit on the CAKES!'' they both screamed.
Saving himself and the pan of wafers by a supreme contortion at the last instant, William decided to remain upon his feet. ``What do I care for the cakes?'' he demanded, contemptuously, beginning to pace the floor. ``It's the question of principle I'm talking about! Do you think it's right to give the people of this town a poor name when strangers like Miss PRATT come to vis--''
``Willie!'' His mother looked at him hopelessly. ``Do go and brush your hair. If you could see how you've tousled it you would.''
He gave her a dazed glance and strode from the room.
Jane looked after him placidly. ``Didn't he talk funny!'' she murmured.
``Yes, dear,'' said Mrs. Baxter. She shook her head and uttered the enigmatic words, ``They do.''
``I mean Willie, mamma,'' said Jane. ``If it's anything about Miss Pratt. he always talks awful funny. Don't you think Willie talks awful funny if it's anything about Miss Pratt, mamma?''
``Yes, but--''
``What, mamma?'' Jane asked as her mother paused.
``Well--it happens. People do get like that at his age, Jane.''
``Does everybody?''
``No, I suppose not everybody. Just some.''
Jane's interest was roused. ``Well, do those that do, mamma,'' she inquired, ``do they all act like Willie?''
``No,'' said Mrs. Baxter. ``That's the trouble; you can't tell what's coming.''
Jane nodded. ``I think I know,'' she said. ``You mean Willie--''
William himself interrupted her. He returned violently to the doorway, his hair still tousled, and, standing upon the threshold, said, sternly:
``What is that child wearing her best dress for?''
``Willie!'' Mrs. Baxter cried. ``Go brush your hair!''
``I wish to know what that child is all dressed up for?'' he insisted.
``To please you! Don't you want her to look her best at your tea?''
``I thought that was it!'' he cried, and upon this confirmation of his worst fears he did increased violence to his rumpled hair. ``I suspected it, but I wouldn't 'a' believed it! You mean to let this child--you mean to let--'' Here his agitation affected his throat and his utterance became clouded. A few detached phrases fell from him: ``--Invite MY friends--children's party--ye gods!--think Miss Pratt plays dolls--''
``Jane will be very good,'' his mother said. ``I shouldn't think of not having her, Willie, and you needn't bother about your friends; they'll be very glad to see her. They all know her, except Miss Pratt, perhaps, and--'' Mrs. Baxter paused; then she asked, absently: ``By the way, haven't I heard somewhere that she likes pretending to be a little girl, herself?''
``WHAT!''
``Yes,'' said Mrs. Baxter, remaining calm; ``I'm sure I've heard somewhere that she likes to talk `baby-talk.' ''
Upon this a tremor passed over William, after which he became rigid. ``You ask a lady to your house,'' he began, ``and even before she gets here, before you've even seen her, you pass judgment upon one of the--one of the noblest--''
``Good gracious! _I_ haven't `passed judgment.' If she does talk `baby-talk,' I imagine she does it very prettily, and