“Pshaw!” cried Richard.
“Don’t it beat all?” echoed Phœbe, with a fine imitation of a disappointed damsel.
CHAPTER XIII
THE HOME FOR INDIGENT DRAKES
“Well, if I can’t hug him,” Phœbe resigned herself briskly, “tell me his name and let me get acquainted as quick as possible. Although I think you make a mistake, Jerry darling, not to let me hug him and get over with it. He’s the most willin’-lookin’ creature I ever clapped eyes on, and I’m sure we’d be both enjoyin’ an innocent bit of lovin’. And mebbe if we had it out now right before your eyes we’d have done with it and not go hankerin’ after it behind your back.” Her rapid-fire tongue gave no one a chance. But, meanwhile, as she talked she pushed chairs out and arranged comfortable cushions. “There! Sit ye down and tell me all about it. What’s his name and where did you find him? Here! Sit here! I’ll half turn my back on him, he’s that temptin’. Why don’t some of you be talkin’ and not make me do all the entertainin’?”
“Isn’t she a wonder?” cried Jerry to Richard. “Look out! She’s always up to mischief when she begins dropping her ‘g’s.’”
Red-head she was, and eyes of absolute blue; and her lips curved in perpetual merriment.
“Saint Phœbe!” ejaculated Richard.
“The same,” she agreed. “Me halo’s in the wash. But be quiet, young man, until you’re introduced. I’m a respectable widow, and awful seductive—I mean, susceptible. Ach! Don’t look at me that way like a Gibson pen-and-ink sketch! Do you want me to be eatin’ out o’ your hand?”
She turned her chair and faced Jerry.
“Who is the handsome creature?” she asked pathetically; “and how did he ever get out of his picture frame?”