“You don’t seem enthusiastic about it, sis.”
“Why should I be?” she replied indifferently.
“That’s so; but, Bessie,”—and he took her hand and patted it playfully,—“why shouldn’t you be?”
“Little brothers shouldn’t ask too many questions,” she replied, assuming his manner playfully.
“Of course not. But seriously, Bess,—I never believed in trying to do the ‘bless you, my children’ business, you know that,—what is wrong between Davy and you? Great Scott!” he exclaimed with boyish enthusiasm, “Davy Ross is worth a whole regiment of—my kind. Honest Injun, Bess, he’s going to do something one of these days. It’s in his eye.”
The car swung round a corner and gathered speed as they slipped down a quiet side street.
“What is the trouble, Bess?”
“Nothing,” she replied indifferently.
“That settles it. When ‘nothing’s’ the matter, the bun is off the stove. A girl can overlook larceny, bigamy, arson, robbery, contempt of court, and murder, but ‘nothing,’”—he sighed ponderously.
“Walter!”