“That’s good of you, dear,” Beth said, her black eyes dancing. “I hate conundrums. Tell me.”
“Larry Haven has hired an office in the Hudsonvale block.”
“Why, Mary! that certainly is news,” Beth cried. “I never would have guessed that. Has he hung out his shingle?”
“He’s going to,” declared Mary, who knew all about it, for her father was janitor of Hudsonvale’s one brick office building. “He’s taken the room next to Dr. Coldfoot’s, the dentist’s, suite. Larry told father that the screams of the dentist’s patients would not bother him, for he expected his clients would scream quite as loud when he separated them from their money,” and Mary giggled again. “And oh, Beth! he’s just as handsome!”
“Who is—Dr. Coldfoot?” asked her friend, innocently.
“Goodness no! You are well aware, Beth Baldwin, that I meant the village pride, Mr. Lawrence Haven, just returned from the law school with his sheepskin.”
Beth laughed again. “I do hope he’ll be successful,” she said. “His father was a prominent lawyer, you know.”
“Goodness! I hope he can dance,” responded Mary. “There’s a great dearth of good dancers among the boys here in Hudsonvale. You know, Beth, at graduation last month we girls had to dance together at our party. Oh dear! I wish we were going to have it over again! What fun!”
“Larry Haven is no longer a boy,” Beth said slowly.
Mary laughed. “Of course not. He’s an old man,” she said saucily. “He’s twenty-two.”