A vigorous up and down bobbing of a small shock of auburn hair.
“So,” said Simpkins, “I thought it might show up in your back-yard gang.”
“It has, Bill, you old grouch!!” for Lady Standish, as about all of Branton Hills grown-ups, was in school with Bill. “It’s all right, now, and warm and cuddly. Don’t cry, Mary darling. Priscilla will bring in your puppy.”
As that happy baby sat crooning to that puppy, also a baby, Old Bill had to snort out:—
“Huh! A lot of fuss about a pup, I’ll say!”
“Oh, pooh-pooh, Bill Simpkins!” said Lady S. “Why shouldn’t a child croon to a puppy? Folks bring all kinds of animals to my back yard, if sick or hurt. Want to walk around my zoo?”
“No!! No zoos for Councilman Simpkins! Animals ain’t worth so much fuss!”
“Pshaw, Bill! You talk ridiculously! I wish you could know of about half of my works. I want to show you a big Angora cat. A dog bit its foot so I put a balm on it and wound it with cotton”
“You put balm on a cat’s foot!! Bah!”
But Lady Standish didn’t mind Old Bill’s ravings having known him so long; so said:—
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