Pelz."
"Bleema, you stay right here and finish your supper. There's two
chauffeurs on the place to drive Spencer around to his club."
"But, dad, I promised."
"Why, Bleema, ain't you ashamed? Mr. Feist here for dinner and you to
run off like that. Shame on you!"
"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Pelz. I'll stay around and be entertained by
you and Mr.--"
"I'll be back in twenty minutes, moms. Surely you'll excuse me that
long! I want to drive him down in my new runabout. I promised. Please,
moms! Dad?"
"Ask your papa, Bleema; I--I don't know--"
"Dad?"
"You heard what I said, Bleema. No!"
A quick film of tears formed over Miss Pelz's eyes, her lips quivering.
"Oh, well--if--if you're going to be that mean--oh, you make me so
mad--. Come on, Lester--I--I guess I can take you as far as the front
door without the whole world jumping on me. Oh--oh--you make me so mad!"
And pranced out on slim feet of high dudgeon.
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Pelz, stirring into her coffee. "She's so high
strung."
"She's got to quit wasting her time on that conceited jackass," said Mr.
Pelz, swallowing off his demi-tasse at a gulp. "Won't have it!"
"It makes her papa mad the way the boys just kill themselves over that
girl," said Mrs.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226