“Can you do that?” he inquired unbelievingly.
“Certainly. Dashing horses that will stand up,” she boasted, and in another moment a perfectly correct horse was laid before the delighted boys.
A few more rapid snips and a short-skirted lady was handed to Betty.
“Now, make a clown, a lion, a tiger, an elephant,” came in quick, short orders which were readily filled.
“My dear young lady,” exclaimed Kingdon. “You are really talented. It is so seldom an artist can do anything but draw.”
“I can’t draw. I am just a cutter,” she corrected. “I can’t do anything with a pencil.”
They were all so absorbed in the paper products that Kurt’s entrance passed unnoted.
“Betty,” he said imploringly, after waiting a moment without recognition, “you can’t guess what’s in my pocket?”
Pen looked up unbelievingly. The caressing, winning note had utterly disguised his voice. As he handed the delighted Betty a satisfactorily shaped parcel, his glance rested upon his prisoner, bringing a quick gleam of surprise to his eyes.
“I am taking out my first papers, you see,” she announced, pointing to the miniature menagerie.