“Don't be a horrid and exasperating old man. What did you say to her?”
“I gave her some interesting news about a local landmark.”
The Bonnie Lassie came over to me in three swift little bounds like a kitten, and pointed some sort of high-art tool at my chin. “Tell me at once,” she commanded.
“I've just informed Miss Varick that the cage on the roof of No. 13 has been ordered removed not later than tomorrow.”
“Has it?”
“Thinking,” I pursued serenely, “that she might wish to take a final look at the place where she first tasted the delights of chewing-gum,—these crucial experiences of childhood, you know—”
“Don't be a goose, dominie. Suppose she doesn't come?”
“Then you were wrong, and she doesn't really care for him.”
The Bonnie Lassie lowered her tool and bestowed a glance of approval upon me which encouraged me to continue.
“She might even want to go up to the housetop once more.”