"So I do—that is, I don't dislike him, and I think he has some fine points."
"It would take an X-ray to discover them through all that plumpness," put in Dee flippantly.
"You, as the wife of the man who was commissioned by the President of Exmoor to bestow this honor on a Southern boy, would be the appropriate person, anyhow—that is, unless Green himself will do it."
"Not I! I feel toward him just as Miss Page does, and speaking of psychology—my astral body is at war with his astral body to such an extent that a pricking in my thumb tells me he will grant no request of mine and Molly must bell the cat."
"All right! I am willing to do anything my lord and master puts on me, if you really think I can succeed."
"Succeed! Of course you can!" we chorused.
"Tomorrow afternoon, then, when we have tea with them in their garden, will be 'the time, the place, and the girl.' He will have to be nice under his own vine and fig tree," suggested Zebedee.
"There is one thing I ask of you," begged Dum.
"And what is that? I feel myself to be very important," and Mrs. Green wasted another beautiful blush.
"Wear blue! Your own blue! I know he is the kind of old man who can't resist a beautiful woman in blue."