“The poor things. I don’t suppose orphans get ice cream cones very often, do they?” Virginia asked the woman.
“Some ain’ nevah had none afo’, Ah bets. Has you, chillun? Who had one?” Six worldly wise infants voted in the affirmative.
Mr. Vivian was stirred deeply by this information. That human beings were permitted to arrive at such an age without experience of cones struck him as an economic mistake. “It’s a shame,” he cried.
“They eat them as though they were used to them,” laughed Virginia.
“Yes,” he agreed, as he watched the mouths of the blackbirds wag in solemn unison. Another thought struck him. “You have had these orphans out for a ride all morning, Miss Dale?”
She nodded. “We’ve had a grand time, too. Haven’t we, children?”
Mouths were too full for utterance but there was a unanimous bobbing of heads.
When Virginia opened her purse to pay for the cones, Mr. Vivian, after inspecting the tendered currency for a moment, submitted a proposal. “Miss Dale, would you object if I presented the cones to the children? I would be glad to do it.”
There was a look of understanding in Virginia’s eyes as she answered him, “I know how you feel about it. I can’t let you do it today, though, Mr. Vivian. You see, it is my treat.”
Motionless as a statue, Mr. Vivian stood before the door of his establishment and watched the machine depart. As it disappeared a look of great approval rested upon his countenance. “There goes a darn fine girl,” he muttered. He threw back his fat shoulders and worked them as though a great load had been recently removed from them. “Thank heaven,” he cried, “she didn’t take it into her head to unload that outfit in my place.” He scratched his head. “What would I have done?”