Any reference to the occasion at which her husband hinted, usually brought his wife “to time,” as Chet slangily expressed it. She agreed to be present at the girls’ gymnasium on that last day when the girls used the paraphernalia as they pleased, with Mrs. Case standing by to direct, or admonish, or advise.
Mrs. Belding found in the gallery overlooking the big gymnasium floor many of her neighbors, church friends, or fellow club-members.
“I’ve been trying to get here for months,” one stout lady confided to the Market Street jeweler’s wife; “but it does seem to me I never have a minute to spare. But Lluella says that I must 24 come now, for the term is ending. That’s Lluella over yonder jumping on that mat. Isn’t she quick on her feet?”
“Grace is such a reckless child,” complained the lady on Mrs. Belding’s other side. “She’s her father all over again—and he’s got the quickest temper of any man I ever saw. Gets over it right away, you know; but it’s a trial to have a man get mad because the coffee’s muddy of a morning.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” sighed the fleshy lady, windily.
“I don’t suppose there’s really any danger of the children getting hurt here, Mrs. Belding?” proceeded the thin mother.
“I believe not. Laura says there is no danger––”
“Oh, your Laura is a regular athlete!” interrupted the fat woman. “My Lluella says she is just wonderful.”
“So does my Grace,” declared the thin lady on the other side. “She says there’s nobody like ‘Mother Wit,’ as she calls Laura.”
“I think there is no danger,” murmured Mrs. Belding, not sure whether she was glad or sorry that her daughter was so popular.