"I could give you a lorny-yette and beat you at the frozen-stare trick,"
said the irrepressible Mayme at the conclusion of the duel which ended
in her favor.
The Little Red Doctor gurgled. I saw the Bonnie Lassie's eyelids quiver,
but her face was cold and impassive as she turned to the visitor.
"Mrs. Berthelin," said she, "you have made some very damaging
statements, before witnesses, about Miss McCartney's character. What
proof have you?"
"Why, he wants to _marry_ her!" almost yelled the mother. "She's trapped
him."
"That's another lie," said Mayme.
"He told me himself that he was going to marry you."
"Did he? Then he's wrong. I wouldn't marry him with a brass ring,"
asserted Mayme.
"You wouldn't mar--You wouldn't _what_?" demanded the mother, outraged
and incredulous.
"You heard me. He knows it, too. I don't like the family--what I've seen
of them," observed Mayme judicially. "Besides, he's yellow."
David's shamed face emerged into view. "I'm not," he gulped. "She--she
made me."
"Captain!" said Mayme with a searing scorn in her voice.
"Quartermaster's Department! Safety first! When half the little
fifteen-per tape-snippers in the Emporium are breakin' their
fourteen-inch necks volunteerin' early and often to get where the
fightin' is."
David Berthelin stood on his feet, and his pretty face wore an ugly
expression.
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