“Father,” I said, “do you know Miss Everett, my English teacher?”
He remembered the name.
“Would you be willing to do her a great favor?” I demanded intencely.
“What sort of a favor?”
“Her couzin has written a play. She is very fond of her couzin, and anxious to have him suceed. And it is a lovely play.”
He held me off and stared at me.
“So that is what you were doing in that box alone!” he exclaimed. “You incomprehensable child! Why didn’t you tell your mother?”
“Mother does not always understand,” I said, in a low voice. “I thought, by buying a Box, I would do my part to help Miss Everett’s couzin’s play suceed. And as a result I was draged home, and shamefully treated in the most mortafying maner. But I am acustomed to brutalaty.”
“Oh, come now,” he said. “I wouldn’t go as far as that, chicken. Well, I won’t finanse the play, but short of that I’ll do what I can.”
However, he was not so agreable when I told him Carter Brooks’ plan. He delivered a firm no.