Missy glanced
about, suspicious yet alertly inquisitive. Would the women rush up
and kiss him? Her eyes rested on prim Mrs. Siddons, on silly Miss
Lightner, on fat, motherly Mrs. Allen, Kitty's mother. Poor Kitty,
if her mother should so disgrace herself!--Missy felt a moment's
thankfulness that her own mother was safely home in bed.
A lot of people were pushing forward up the aisle toward the
lecturer; some were already shaking hands with him--men as well as
women.
Then Missy heard herself uttering an amazing, unpremeditated thing:
"Would you like to go up and shake hands with Mr. Dobson, father?"
The moment after, she was horrified at herself. Why had she said
that? She didn't want to shake hands with a repulsive siren!
But father was answering:
"What? You, too!"
Just what did he mean by that? And by that quizzical sort of smile?
She felt her cheeks growing hot, and wanted to look away. But, now,
there was nothing to do but carry it through in a casual kind of
way.
"Oh," she said, "I just thought, maybe, it might be interesting to
shake hands with such a celebrity.
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