"Just a little old last year's car. Poor old Pops would give it to me
now if I asked him--but it's just as well to have it away in case Moms
could ever make him change his mind, only of course she perfectly well
can't do anything of the sort. But anyway I'm sending it to that shop
around the corner in the street below you, and they'll hold it there to
your order. You never can tell; we might need it suddenly some time, and
anyway you ought to have it, don't you see, because I'm just perfectly
giving it to you this minute, and you can run about in it with that
dearest dog, and it's the very first thing I ever gave you, isn't it?
I'll always remember it just for that. It will do us all right for a few
weeks, until we can look around. And there never was any one before, was
there? You just needn't answer; you'd have to say 'No,' and anyway
Granny says a young--you know what--should never ask silly questions
about what happened before she met him, because it perfectly well makes
rows, and I know she's right, but there never _was_, was there, and no
matter anyway, because it's settled forever now, and we _do_, don't we?
My! but I'm excited. Don't forget what I said about the brass andirons
and the curtains for your den. Goo'-bye."
"Huh! yes, of course not!" said Bean, but the flapper had gone.
Back at the typewriter he tried to collect his memories of her message:
sideboard with darling feet of some kind, no fumed oak, perhaps--brass
andirons, curtains for his den.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202