My heart goes twirly-whirly
When I see my pearlie girlie,
With her—
"Now, what is that next line? With her—?"
"With her ring-around-a-rosy curls!" supplemented Ruth, her own face breaking into laughter, as, caught by the infection of Fibsy's waggish gayety, she rounded out the phrase.
"Yes, that's it," said Fibsy, eagerly, "and
Her teeth like little shining pearls,
Oh, she's my queen of all the girls,
My little twirly-whirly, pearlie Girlie!"
Ruth and Fibsy finished the silly little song in concert, and Stone clapped his hands in applause.
Rhoda sniffed and Sarah acidly remarked:
"How can you, Ruth? I wish you'd be a little more dignified."
Quickly the light went out of Ruth's eyes. She looked reproved, and though she didn't resent it, a patient sadness came into her eyes, and I resolved that I would do all I could to get it arranged that she should live apart from the two carping, criticizing sisters.
After dinner we had coffee in the library. Again, Fleming Stone took it upon himself to entertain the Misses Schuyler, and I drifted toward Ruth. She sat down on a sofa and motioned Fibsy to sit beside her. I drew a chair up to them and thanked a kind fate that let us all leave the table at once, dispensing with a more formal tarrying of the men.