"Oh, yes," said the Watermelon absent-mindedly, thinking of the girl with the single dimple and the turned-up nose.
"Father took me, once," said Billy. "It was terrible. Are you a broker, Mr. Batchelor?"
"Haven't you read yesterday's papers, Billy?" exclaimed Henrietta.
"I never read the papers," admitted Billy, with a charming smile. "Just the front page head-lines, sometimes."
"He was there," laughed the general. "In inch-high print. He broke the cotton ring, my dear." The general's tone was full of reflected glory as the host of the great man.
"Oh," cried Billy, "that's where father lost so much. He told me this morning, just as we left the house—"
Bartlett glanced sharply at the Watermelon and interrupted Billy with a laugh. "You get everything wrong, my dear," said he, tweaking her ear. "I said a good deal of money had been lost—"
"But, papa," protested Billy, "you said—"
"Come to dinner, everybody, please," interrupted Henrietta, in response to an appealing glance from Bartlett. "I am starving whether you others are or not."
"We had better," cried the general jocularly, "or this young man will become a bear instead of a bull." He laid his hand affectionately on the Watermelon's shoulder and walked down the hall with it resting there.