"If you say 'that's so' again, I shall be angry with you," said Missy. "Mr. Andrews, won't you try to stop the children from talking this vulgar slang. Jolly, coquettish, bizarre slang I don't mind, once in a very great while, from children, but this sort of kitchen and village boy vulgarity they never will get over, if they keep it up much longer."
"I have done my best," said Mr. Andrews.
"Well, I hope you'll excuse me for saying I don't think you have covered yourself with glory."
"Jay, we're a bad lot; we must reform at once," said the father, putting his stiff arm around his boy, and giving him a hug. "Miss Rothermel will give us up if we don't."
"That's so!" cried Jay, boisterously, kicking the shawl off his legs, and nearly tumbling off the seat in his enthusiasm.
"I have given you up," said Missy. "Don't put yourselves to the trouble of reforming on my account."
Nothing seemed to disturb the tranquillity of Mr. Andrews this evening. He looked around and saw Missy's face darken as they found themselves meeting carriages arriving from the cars, but it did not seem to depress him; on the contrary, he seemed quietly amused.
"The cars are three-quarters of an hour late!" exclaimed Missy, unguardedly; "I thought we should have escaped them."
"There is no dust to-night," said Mr. Andrews; "so they don't do us any harm."
"No, of course not," murmured Missy, bowing stiffly to Mrs. Eve and her placid-looking son, who swept past them as if they were fugitives from justice.