“Oh, he is a wonderful piannerist,” explained Betty. “He played, Oh, jist lovely, jist like birds singin’ an’ rivers runnin’ an’ the sun shinin’. But arfter he played he looked so fierce I was skeered of him. Miss Gordon didn’t like him either, arfter she got knowin’ him better.”,
Clarence had crossed the Pons Asinorum; a series of intoxicated circles, with sharp-cornered triangles piercing their fat sides, bore eloquent testimony to his faltering steps.,
“I wathed theeth carroth mythelf, aint they lovely and red jutht like Motheth hair.” She was quite oblivious of the scornful glance bestowed on her by that outraged shock-headed youth..
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