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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"Bunker Bean"

"
"I had it all perfectly planned out long ago," said the flapper. "I
don't _want_ a large place."
"Lots of trouble," conceded Bean. "Something always coming up," he added
knowingly.
"Nice yard," said the flapper, "plenty of room for flowers and the
tennis court, and I'll do the marketing when I motor in for you. They
won't let me do it back there," she concluded with some acrimony; "and
they get good and cheated and I'm perfectly glad of it. Eighteen cents a
head for lettuce! I saw that very thing on a tag yesterday!"
"Rob you right and left," mumbled Bean. "All you can expect."
"Just leave it all to me," said the flapper with four of her double
nods. "They'll soon learn better."
"Hardly seems as if it could all be true," ventured Bean in a genial
effort at sanity.
"It's just perfectly true and true," insisted the flapper. "I knew it
all the time." She placed the old relentless gaze upon him. He was hers.
"The beautiful, blind wants of youth!" said the Demon, who had been
silent a long time, for her. "I remember--" But it seemed to come to
nothing. She was silent again.
He paid the waiter.
"It was just as well to have this little talk," murmured Grandma as they
arose.
The car throbbed before the steps. They were in and away. A reviving
breeze swept them as the car gained speed. At least it partially revived
one of them.
In the back seat he presently found a hand in his, but his own hand
seemed no longer a part of him.


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