"Why," says Miss Snell, as I'm unbuttonin' the door for her, "you might stick around a few minutes to see if he wants little Billy taken to the hospital or anything. I'll let you know." And with that she trips in.
"Lively young party, eh?" I remarks to Babe. "Don't mind askin' for what she wants."
"Perfectly all right, too," says he, "in a case like this. She isn't one of the helpless kind. Some pep to her, I'll bet. Lucy, eh? I always did like that name."
I had to chuckle. "What about the Snell part?" says I. "That one of your favorite names, too?"
"N—n—no," says Babe. "But she'll probably change that some of these days. She's the sort that does, you know."
"I expect you are right, at that," I agrees.
Pretty soon out she comes again, calm and smilin'. It's some smile she has, by the way. Wide and generous and real folksy. And now that the scare has faded out of her eyes they have more or less snap to 'em. They're the bright brown kind, that match her hair, and the freckles across the bridge of her nose.
"It's all right," says she. "Dr. Baker says the ice pack did the trick. And he'll take Billy home as soon as he's cleaned him up a bit. Thanks, Mr. Cutler."
"Oh, I might as well drive you home, too, and finish the job," says Babe.
"Well, I'm not missing anything like that, I can tell you," says Miss Snell. "I'm simply soaked with that youngster's gore. But I live way back on the other road. My! Billy dripped some on your seat cushions, didn't he?"