“If I’d got to marry,” went on the maid of honour, “I’d as soon marry you as anyone.”
“I wu’nt mind,” said the page gallantly. “But,” he added hastily, “in ornery clothes.”
“Oh, yes,” she lost her foothold and rolled down to the pile of pillows. From them came her voice muffled, but clear as ever. “You betcher life. In ornery clothes.”
CHAPTER X
WILLIAM’S NEW YEAR’S DAY
William went whistling down the street, his hands in his pockets. William’s whistle was more penetrating than melodious. Sensitive people fled shuddering at the sound. The proprietor of the sweet-shop, however, was not sensitive. He nodded affably as William passed. William was a regular customer of his—as regular, that is, as a wholly inadequate allowance would permit. Encouraged William paused at the doorway and ceased to whistle.
“’Ullo, Mr. Moss!” he said.
“’Ullo, William!” said Mr. Moss.
“Anythin’ cheap to-day?” went on William hopefully.