“And what is it?”
“That there must be some one here every minute of the time to see that the big children do not impose on the little ones. There’s a big hulking boy slapping a little one now. I’ll go settle him,” and Grandma nimbly walked away.
“That is no thorn,” said Berty, when she came back. “Mr. Jimson has arranged for it. He has just told me that the city council voted me last evening five hundred dollars as park supervisor.”
“My dear!” said Grandma, in surprise.
“Isn’t it lovely?” murmured Berty, with flushed cheeks. “Now I can pay all the household expenses. With my annuity we shall be quite prosperous.”
“The city appreciates what you are doing,” said Grandma, softly, “and the Mayor has been a good friend to you.”
“Hasn’t he?” said Berty. “I must not scold him for that awful speech.”
“The opening was good,” said Grandma, mildly.
“Yes, but the middle and the ending,” replied Berty, with a groan.
“Oh, how I suffered—not for myself. I could endure to hear him speak for a year. But I do so want him to make a good impression on others. His tongue is just like a spool of silk. It unwinds and unwinds and unwinds, and never breaks off. Talk about women’s tongues!”