There was a murmur of deprecation.
Quick as a flash—
“Well, I’m sure that’s very ’andsome,” simpered Aunt Harriet.
“Now, look ’ere, Bobbie lad,” said Uncle Tom, “don’t you go rushin’ in. Ten to one’s a bit thick. Jus’ ’cause it’s your day out, that ain’t no call for you to go treatin’——”
“Why not?” cried Bob. “Why, I want you all to remember this day, I do—the ’appies’ day o’ my life. Ten? I wish you was fifty. I’ve becked a winner to-day—drawn the firs’ prize in the bigges’ sweep on earth. . . . Look at ’er standin’ there! Ain’t she a peach? An’ you want me to ’old me ’and for a matter o’ thirty bob!”
“ ’Ooray!” cried Mr. Mason. “ ’Ooray! An’ mind—the firs’ Benger’s with me.”
Laughter and cheers confirmed the acceptance of hospitality.
Feeling as though she had dashed herself against a wall, Ann stammered something about getting her hat.
“Oh, it’s right opposight,” said Ada. “We never wear ’ats jus’——”
She stopped with a jerk.