I repaid her compliment, praising her elegant set of teeth.
Ada is the free-born girl of modern Amerikey.
She need never fear to open her mouth wide.
She must have been using special tooth-powder three times a day.
“We are great friends already, aren’t we?” I said.
And I extended my finger-tips behind her, and pulled some wisps of her chestnut hair.
“Please, don’t!” she said, and raised her sweetly accusing eyes. Then our friendship was confirmed.
Girls don’t take much time to exchange their faith.
I was uneasy at first, thinking that Ada might settle herself in a tête-à-tête with me, in the chit-chat of poetry. I tried to recollect how the first line of the “Psalm of Life” went, for Longfellow would of course be the first one to encounter.
Alas, I had forgotten it all.