She
sat forward, trembling.
There followed a half-hour of voices at the curb, a low voice of
undeniable tensity, high laughter that shot up in joyous geysers. It was
a fifteen-minute process from the curb to the first of the porch steps,
and then Mrs. Goldstone leaned forward, her voice straining to keep
its pitch.
"Effie!"
The young figure sprang around the porch pillar.
"Mamma Hat! Honey, you didn't wait up for me?"
Mr. Kessler came forward, goggles pushed up above his cap-visor.
"Well, I'm hanged! What did you think--that I was kidnapping the kid?"
"How--how dared you! It's after two, and--"
Miss Goldstone began then to jump again upon her toes, linking her arm
in his.
"Tell her, Leon! Tell her! Oh, Mamma Hat! Mamma Hat!"
She was suddenly in Mrs. Goldstone's arms, her ardent face burning
through the white wrapper.
Mr. Kessler removed his cap, flinging it upward again and catching it.
"Tell her, Leon!"
"Well, what would you say, Becker, what would you say if I was to come
out here and swipe that little darling there?"
"Oh, Leon--kidder!"
"If--what?"
"I said it!"
"Tell her, Kess; tell it out! Oh, mommie, mommie!"
He leaned forward with his hand on the back of the turbulent head of
curls.
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