"'There's always room for one more,' is my motto. I believe it always comes home to the girl that don't share her good times. If me and Arch couldn't call by for a girl on our way to a party, I'd feel sorry for us. Give her your arm, Arch."
"Here! I tried once to, and she wouldn't take it."
Miss Schump hooked a highly diffident hand into Mr. Sensenbrenner's sharply jutted elbow.
"You two go on and talk together. I've chewed Arch's right ear off already."
"It's a grand evenin'—ain't it, Mr. Sensenbrenner?"
At that from Miss Schump, Miss Kinealy executed a very soprano squeal that petered out in a titter of remonstrances.
"Arch Sensenbrenner, if you don't stop pinching me! Honest, my arm's black and blue! Honest! What'll Stella think we are? Now cut it out!"
They walked a block in silence, but, beside her, Miss Schump could feel them shaking to a duet of suppressed laughter, and the red in her face rose higher and a little mustache of the tiniest of perspiration beads came out over her lip. The desire to turn back, the sudden ache for the quietude of the little halo of lamplight and the swollen finger-joints of her mother in and out at work, were almost not to be withstood.
"I—You—you and Mr. Sensenbrenner go on, Cora. I—me not knowin' Gertie
Cobb and all—I—I—feel I'm intruding. You and him go on. Please!"
Miss Kinealy crossed to her, kindly at once and sobered.