” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange.
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