"You little darling, I'm going to put you on my back and carry you off
to New York."
"Oh, mommie," cried Miss Goldstone, flinging back her head so that her
face shone up, "he asked me in Delmar Garden! We're going to live in New
York, darling, and Rockaway in summer. He don't care a rap about the
New York girls compared to me. We're going to Cuba on our honeymoon. I'm
engaged, darling! I got engaged to-night!"
"That's the idea, Twinkle-pinkle. I'd carry you off to-night if I
could!"
"Mommie Hat, ain't you glad?"
"Effie--Effie--"
"Mommie, what is it? What's the matter, darling? What?"
"I--it's just that I got cold, honey, sitting here waiting--the surprise
and all. Run, honey, and get me a drink. Crack some ice, dearie, and
then run up-stairs in the third floor back and see if there's some
brandy up there. Be sure to look for--the brandy. I--I'll be all right."
"My poor, darling, cold mommie!"
She was off on the slim, quick feet, the screen door slamming and
vibrating.
Then Mrs. Goldstone sprang up.
"You wouldn't dare! Such a baby--you wouldn't dare!"
"Dare what?"
"You can't have the child! You can't!"
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean?"
He advanced a step, his voice and expression lifted in incredulity.
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