“It’s my running tongue that got me in this fix. Why does everybody put such foolish value on the talker! Talkers ought to be suppressed!”
Gorgas came to her senses first.
“I’m over my mad now,” she said. “Of course, you’ve got to go, whether you want to or not. They call it duty, I believe. That means something disagreeable that your insides won’t let you shirk. You can’t back out, Allen Blynn. I advised you to go to Holden. In fact, I had just this thing in mind. I wanted you to be big and famous and talked about. Well, you are. I’m not happy about it. This splendid idea of a school in Cresheim Valley where we could all work together and be somebodies ourselves—it’s an awful come-down to have to chuck it—”
“Gorgas!” mildly from Mrs. Levering. “That talk doesn’t go at all with your lady-like clothes. I wish you wouldn’t say ‘chuck it.’”
“Mother, I’m almost tempted to say ‘Rats!’”
“Horrors!” the mother flung up her hands. “Say ‘chuck it’ if you must. That other word is positively vulgar. I can’t see why so many nice young boys and girls use such slang. Slang of the right sort, Mr. Blynn, I don’t mind; but the latest corruptions of the language are just low. Don’t toss those gloves on the ground, Gorgas, even if you do pay for them yourself. You have no proper reverence for fine clothes.”
“I’m ready to swear, mother, at any moment. Look out!” Gorgas smiled grimly.
“Ein tousand ein hundred ein und zwanzig!” helped Blynn. He was beginning to recover from the shock.
“Name of the name of a pipe!” she added, and suggested, “Let’s talk it over with Bardek.”
“Good!” everyone agreed, and they were off to the white cottage.