"Be just as nice as you know how to be to Mr. Jack Ferrers. He—he is a remarkable person, I have reason to think. You see," she spoke rather hastily, "Hilda has told me so much about him. And I—well, I heard him play last night, and he is a very wonderful performer, boys. You never, in your little lives, heard anything like his playing. He is too much in love with his art to think of any such nonsense as has been troubling your silly heads; you will understand that, the moment you hear him."
Gerald made a feeble protest to the effect that he hated fiddling, but there was little hope in his tone. And he was promptly reminded of his having spent his last fifty cents the winter before on a ticket for Sarasate's concert, and saying that it was the best investment he ever made.
The boys knew that their cause was lost; and when Bell added, as a clincher, "Ask Mammy, and see what she says," they retired from the unequal contest.
"Oh, we know what Mammy will say! Don't hit us when we are down, Bell. We'll go, and make asses of ourselves as well as we know how."
"Oh, not that, dears, I entreat!" cried Bell; and then ran swiftly into the house, laughing.
The twins resumed their occupation of pitching gravel stones, but a change had come over their spirits. Phil was actually whistling, and Gerald hummed a bass with perfect cheerfulness. The cat came back across the lawn, and they threw stones before her nose and behind her tail, avoiding contact with her person (for she was a beloved cat, in hours of joy), and contenting themselves with seeing her skip hither and thither in uninjured surprise.
"Philly!"
"Yes, Jerry!"
"Us feels a lot better, don't us, Philly?"
"H'm!" said Phil, and the sound was now one of content and peace.