“He’s got to,” said Mr. Jimson, obstinately.
“But perhaps he can’t; then how will she ever know you sent for it, if I don’t tell her. You would like me to in that case, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m no violet,” said Mr. Jimson, disagreeably. “I want to get in with Miss Everest, and how can I if I blush unseen?”
“I’ll tell her of your blushes,” said Berty, generously. “Come, now, let us be friends again. From my standpoint, I think you have done nobly and magnificently.”
“But you were just blaming me.”
“That was from Miss Everest’s standpoint.”
“I’m blessed if I know how to take you,” muttered the confused man. “One minute you’re yourself, and the next you’re another woman.”
“That’s feminine reversibility,” said Berty, graciously. “You don’t understand us yet. That is the punishment our Creator inflicts upon you, for not having studied us more. A pity I hadn’t known you five years ago—come, it’s time to lock up here. Oh, Mr. Mayor, can’t we have electric lights for this playground?”
With an effort he called back his wandering thoughts which were on the way to Boston with his office-boy, and looked round the darkening park. “What do you want lights for?”
“Why, these children play till all hours. It’s mean to keep them here till dark, then turn them on the streets. A few lights would make the place as light as day.”