"What are Yonkers? Don't tell him, Jarvis—he's too young to know. It's an ugly modern play. We saw some things you might have enjoyed. Oh, I often wished for you."
"Thank you, my dear, but I have no desire to enter that cauldron of humanity."
"I agree with you, Professor Parkhurst."
"That is a rare occurrence, I may say," answered the Professor, with a twinkle.
"Thank goodness, you have me to prod you into life. You would both sit in your dens and figure and write until you blinked like owls in the night. I have stored up energy enough, from these two weeks in the cauldron, to run me for months. I didn't miss one thing, ugly or beautiful. I shall use it all."
"Use it? How use it, my dear?"
"In my thoughts, my opinions, my life."
"Dear me!" said her father, staring at her. "What odd things you say!"
"It's true, what she says," Jarvis ejaculated. "She rolled New York up on reels, like a moving-picture show, and I have no doubt she could give us a very good performance."
"I shall," quoth Bambi.