Thomas lifted his upper lip in a sneer. "Indeed!" he replied. "I'm not treatin' you fair? Well," (with meaning) "I didn't think you was botherin' your head about anybody—except a certain policeman."
Back jerked Jane's chin. "Can't I have a gentleman friend?" she demanded defensively.
"Ha! ha! Gentleman friend!" Then, addressing no one in particular, "My! but don't a uniform take a woman's eye!"
"Why, Thomas!" It was a sorrowful protest. "You misjudge, you really do."
So far there was no fresh element in the misunderstanding. Thus the two argued time and again. Gwendolyn almost knew their quarrel by heart.
But now Thomas came round upon Jane with a snarl. "You're not foolin' me," he declared. "Don't you think I know that policeman's heels over head?" He shook his crumb-knife at her. "Heels over head!" Then seizing the tray and swinging it up, he stalked out.
Jane fell to pacing the floor. Her reddish eyes roved angrily.
Heels over head! Gwendolyn, pondering, now watched the nurse, now looked across to where, on its shelf, was poised the toy somersault man. If one of the uniformed men she dreaded was heels over head—
"But, Jane."
"Well? Well?"