And the other one, Missy Merriam, gets sorta queer streaks
sometimes--you don't know just what's eating her. She's sorta funny,
but she's a peach, all right."
"She the one with the eyes?"
Raymond suddenly turned and stared at the new fellow.
"Yes," he assented, almost reluctantly.
"Some eyes!" commented the other, gazing after the vanishing
equipage.
Raymond looked none too pleased. But it was too late, now, to spike
Fate's spinning wheel. Missy was terribly cast down by the
afternoon's history; but not so cast down that she had lost sight of
the obligation to invite to her dinner a boy who had rescued her--
anyhow, he had tried to rescue her, and that was the same thing. So
a carte must be issued to "Mr. Ed Brown." After all, what's in a
name?--hadn't Shakespeare himself said that?
At supper, Missy didn't enjoy her meal. Had father or mother heard?
Once she got a shock: she glanced up suddenly and caught father's
eyes on her with a curious expression. For a second she was sure he
knew; but he said nothing, only looked down again and went on eating
his chop.
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