“And he who wins the fight with Self
Has won the bravest battle.”
GOOD-BYE, Miss Billy."
"Good-bye, Beatitude. You're a dear to help me off in this way. I won't forget it in a hurry."
"All rightie. See that you don't."
"And Bea, don't vex your soul over that mending basket. It's only one stitch in nine that saves time, you know."
"I won't, but you'd better make haste; you'll miss the boat."
"A miss wouldn't be as good as a mile then, would it? Good-bye, again. Yes, mother, I have a handkerchief. Also a corkscrew for the olives. Also my rubbers. Good-bye, everybody."
Miss Billy was going to a picnic, and in her usual way. The whole house had been in an uproar since six o'clock. There had been a hurried dressing, a hurried breakfast, and a hurried packing of lunch; and it was not until the blue linen suit disappeared around the corner that a lull fell over the home, and the household paused to take breath.