He cocked his head side wise at it. "Is that the chewing kind?" he inquired.
"Oh, I'm sorry!"
However, he did not seem in the least disappointed. For he had a mouthful of gum, and this he cracked loudly from time to time—in a way that excited her admiration and envy.
"I've watched you go by our house lots of times," she confided presently, eager to say something cordial.
"Oh?" said he. "It's a beat that does well enough in summer. But in the wintertime I'd rather be Down-Town." Puffing a little,—for though he was upside down and walking on his hands, he had so far made good progress—he halted and rested his feet against the lowest limb of a tree that stood close to the road. Now his cap touched the ground, and his hands were free. With one white-gloved finger he drew three short lines in the packed dirt.
"And you ought to be Down-Town," declared the little old gentleman, halting too. "Because you're a Policeman with a level head."
A level head? Gwendolyn stooped to look. And saw that it was indeed a fact!
"If I hadn't one," answered the Policeman with dignity, "would I be able to stand up comfortably in this remarkable manner?"
"Oh, tee! hee! hee! hee!"
It was the nurse, her sleeve lifted, her blowzy face convulsed. As she laughed, Gwendolyn saw wrinkle after wrinkle in the black sateen taken up—with truly alarming rapidity.