“Here!” this person said indignantly. “Take your elbow out o’ my stomach and stand still. How d’you expect anybody to see what’s going on with you making all this fuss? Be quiet!”
“I won’t,” said Laurence thickly. “You lea’ me out o’ here!”
“Well, for heaven’s sakes!” the oppressive little man exclaimed. “Make some more trouble for people that want to see something! Go on and get out, then! Oh, Lordy!”
This last was a petulant wail as Laurence squirmed round him; then the pressure of the crowd filled the gap by throwing the little man against the fat woman’s back. “Dam boy!” he raved, putting all his troubles under one head.
But Laurence heard him not; he was writhing his way to the wall; and, once he reached it, he struggled toward the open doors, using his shoulder as a wedge between spectators and the wall. Thus he won free of the press and presently got himself out to the sidewalk, panting. And then, looking about him, he glanced up the street.
At the next crossing to the north two busy little figures were walking rapidly homeward. They were gesturing importantly; their heads were waggling to confirm these gestures; and they were chattering incessantly.
“Well—dog-gone it!” Laurence whispered.
He followed them; but now his lips moved not at all, and there was no mumbling in his throat. He stared at them amazedly, in a great mental silence.
“What wears me out the most,” Daisy said, as they came into their own purlieus again, “it’s this shopping, shopping, shopping, and they never have one single thing!”