"What shall be done to punish a young man who tells lies to an innocent young lady from the East?" she asked gravely. "I have just heard some awful whoppers which a certain person told Marge. And Marge," she said impressively, "is my best friend. I have heard about the Iowa frogs and—"
"I surrender." Bud interrupted her and threw both hands in the air.
Maw gave him a quick look, sucked in her teeth apprehensively as if she were afraid of losing them into her lap, and glanced at Bonnie's hand that had one finger extended and pointing like a gun at Bud.
"Yes, disarm the prisoner, Maw," said Bonnie. "I've got the drop."
Maw reached out and got the gun tucked inside Bud's waistband, where it had been hidden from sight; looked at it, blinking tears from her round eyes, and shoved it down beside her in the big chair.
"You may take down your arms and march ahead of us to that drug store on the corner. Two maidens in distress want lemon soda. Will you come, Maw?"
"No," said Maw in a voice that shook perceptibly, "I don't believe I will. You childern run along and—and have a good time!"
"Listen, Maw. We'll bring you some—some—" Bonnie leaned and whispered in Maw's ear.
"Yes—yes—all right—yes-s—" Maw's hand closed convulsively over the gun.
"And thank the good Lord for that!" Maw breathed fervently, while she watched the three cross the street. "My, my, what turrible liars men do make of us women—keepin' 'em outa trouble." She got up, looked shyly around to see if any there observed her deformity, and waddled away to her room, the gun hidden in a fold of her skirt.