Lydia seized Kent's lapel with fingers that would tremble slightly. "Kent, I dassn't stir. My back breadth don't match and my skirt hangs awful."
"Oh, shucks!" replied Kent, angrily, "you girls are all alike. Red's my favorite color."
"Mine too," said Charlie Jackson at his elbow. "What're you two arguing about?"
"Her dress," growled Kent, "I don't see anything the matter with it, do you?"
"Nope, and it's on the prettiest girl in the room too, eh, Kent?"
"You bet," returned Kent, believing, though, that he lied, for Olga was as pretty as a tea rose.
Lydia blushed and gasped.
"If you won't dance, come on over and have some lemonade," suggested
Kent.
"If I sit in the window, will you bring me a glass?" asked Lydia, still mindful of the back breadth.
"You take her to the window and I'll get the lemo, Kent," said Charlie.