“I have guarded thy couch, fair Titania,” he said; “I, Bottom, the weaver, have done that thing.”
“Where’s Peaseblossom?” he took her cue quickly.
Blynn jerked his thumb toward the diminutive Mac, who had now begun to stiffen up and look his smartest before the superior broughams in the lane about him.
“Peaseblossom in ‘blacks,’” she gurgled. “Oh! oh! That is too funny!”
“Topic number six,” he announced quietly. “I intend to take your advice about Holden. I’m going.”
“When?”
“October; next month.”
She pondered for a second or two and then nodded a determined head.
“Good boy!” she patted him on the arm. “Bully! Now you’re talking like a grown-up man.”