Buddy
is so fond of it and--"
"Is that man here yet?" Josephine's tone carried the full weight of her
dislike of him.
"I don't know why you call him 'that man,' the way you do," Kate
complained, turning her mind from the momentous decision between tea
and chocolate. "Ford's simply fine! Chester thinks there's no one like
him; and Buddy just tags him around everywhere. You can always,"
asserted Kate, with the positiveness of the person who accepts
unquestioningly the beliefs of others, living by faith rather than
reason, "depend upon the likes and dislikes of children and dogs, you
know."
"Has the swelling gone out of his eyes?" Josephine inquired pointedly,
with the irrelevance which seemed habitual to her and Kate when they
conversed.
"Phenie, I don't think it's kind of you to harp on that. Yes, it has, if
you want to know. He's positively handsome--or will be when the--when
his nose heals perfectly. And I don't think that's anything one should
hold against Ford; it seems narrow, dear."
"The skinned place?" Josephine's tone was perfectly innocent, and her
fingers were busy with the wide, black bow which becomingly tied the end
of the braid.
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