"Strange," said Joe, "how things come about. Hello, Mr. Squirrel! Want a peanut? None on the premises. Sorry. Good-day!"
He leaned over, picked a bit of ice, and flung it in the air.
"Myra," he muttered. "I need a rest."
"You do," almost inaudible.
"I need—Didn't I say, no peanuts? No means no! Good-day!"
He turned about laughing.
"What do you think of that for a pesky little animal?"
"Joe!" she cried in her agony.
Joe said nothing, but stared, and a great sob shook him and escaped his lips.
"Myra!!"