“Oh, I don't know what you mean, Papa. She says she may go down, but I don't think she likes going with a lot of kids. You know she has her hair up. She has to have it up in the store. She says the man would not have her behind the counter if she had not her hair up.”
“Oh, that's it. I thought perhaps the maturity of her age made it necessary.”
“I don't know what maturevy means, but she is awfully old. She is going on sixteen.”
“Dear me, as old as that?” inquired her father.
“Yes, but she said she wanted to see that circus car. That's what she calls Mr. Gwynne's car. And she says she wants to see the elephunts perform. There are not any elephunts. There's only Rosie and Rover. But she may get off. She can get off if she can fool her boss, she says. So we're all going down and we may bring Larry home with us, Mrs. Sleighter says. Though Mrs. Gwynne says there's not any room, they're so filled up now. And I said Larry could come here and Joe, too. But I am not so sure about Sam. I think he must be awfully queer. Mr. Gwynne thinks he's queer.”
“It is quite possible, indeed probable, my dear,” assented her father.
“Yes, Mr. Gwynne said he looked like a third-rate how-do-you-feel performer.”
“A what, exactly?”
“A how-do-you-feel performer.”
“Oh, a vaudeville performer.”