When thou art old, there’s grief enough for thee.
The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt,
More he crowed, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide.
Greene (1560-92).
“I’ve wired for him!” Fenella imparted in a startling burst of confidence. “Ronny and I got up early and ran down to the telegraph office.”
“My goodness!” Jacynth stared in resentful dismay at her sparkling eyes. “Well! you have made a nice complication, now.”
The girl laid a beseeching hand on his arm.
“Don’t look so furious; and do—do stand by me in everything as you promised. Remember, you are my only friend here—except Ronny.”