“Tell me, did you ever have a fight? When you were a boy? Were you such a bad boy?”
“I never did when I was a boy, but—well—I did have a couple of fights when I was on the cattle-boat and in England. Neither of them amounted to very much, though, I guess. I was scared stiff!”
“Don’t believe it!”
“Sure I was.”
“I don’t believe you’d be scared. You’re too earnest.”
“Me, Miss Nelly? Why, I’m a regular cut-up.”
“You stop making fun of yourself! I like it when you’re earnest—like when you saw that beautiful snowfall last night…. Oh dear, isn’t it hard to have to miss so many beautiful things here in the city—there’s just the parks, and even there there aren’t any birds, real wild birds, like we used to have in Pennsylvania.”
“Yes, isn’t it! Isn’t it hard!” Mr. Wrenn drew nearer and looked sympathy.
“I’m afraid I’m getting gushy. Miss Hartenstein—she’s in my department—she’d laugh at me…. But I do love birds and squirrels and pussy-willows and all those things. In summer I love to go on picnics on Staten Island or tramp in Van Cortlandt Park.”
“Would you go on a picnic with me some day next spring?” Hastily, “I mean with Miss Proudfoot and Mrs. Arty and me?”