Luella arose with alacrity, but slowly, her arms full of kindling. This she dropped incontinently, and Molly shied as the fluttering figure ran forward.
"I want to speak to you, Jerry. Don't go till you tell me about 'em!" she said breathlessly. "Do excuse my looks," she added with a simper.
"I can overlook 'em if Molly can," replied Jerry.
Both Molly and Luella seemed to be indulging in a return to the skittishness of youth.
Jerry had twice taken Luella home from singing school in days gone by, and he had been ticketed as one of her beaux ever since! A might-have-been with whom she consistently played the game.
She pushed her shaker back. "Have you seen the orphan?" she added, again brushing stray locks of hair out of her curious eyes.
"Yes."
"What's she like? Awful proud, I s'pose."
"Mebbe. She favors Lambert. He went some on looks, you remember."
"How should I remember?" returned Luella with a coy smile, which showed dentally the evenness of piano keys. "I was so much younger than you and Mr. Barry."