“They’re dam fine, that’s a fact,” said he. “But none too good for the likes of youse.”
We all went in to the griddle cakes, but before Minerva began to fry them we had heaping plates of blue berries and even as the burglar had been impressed by them so were Cherry and Ellery.
“I thought,” said Ellery, “that your New Englander was always on the make.”
“Well, in the first place, Pat is not, strictly speaking, a New Englander,” said Ethel, “and in the second place, they’re not always on the make by any means, as we’ve often found out since we came here. Neighbourliness is never sold and there’s lots of neighbourliness here.”
“The very fact that neighbourliness is not sold makes it the more necessary for country people to get a good price for the things they do sell,” said I, sententiously.
“It’s a great place,” said Ellery, with enthusiasm. “I believe I will try tennis this morning,” he added, somewhat irrelevantly, although in justice to him it should be said that his eyes had rested on Cherry’s exuberant beauty before he said it.
“I’m a good deal of a duffer at it. I imagine you play a strong game, Miss Paxton. Will you be my partner in a four-handed game?”
“Dee-lighted,” said Cherry, showing her pretty teeth.
“The writing of the epic is indefinitely postponed,” said Ethel. “You are all alike, you men.”
“Wait till next winter, Mrs. Vernon,” said Ellery. “I’m going to make myself a storehouse of energy and I dare say Vernon’s doing the same thing.”