Look at Bob an' this Mr. Snellin' sweatin' in that shop like beavers
over somethin' that ain't never goin' to do 'em an ounce of good--mebbe
ain't never goin' to do anybody no good. There's somethin' in him that
sorter compels people to stand on their heads for him like that. I
often try to figger out just what it is," she mused. Then in a brisker
tone she asked: "How's the hat comin'?"
"Beautifully."
"That's good. Hurry it right along, for I'm plannin' to have dinner at
twelve an' get it out of the way."
"But the car isn't coming for us until three o'clock."
"'Twill take that time to wash up the dishes an' rig Willie up."
"Not three hours!"
"You don't know him. We'll have our hands full to head him away from
that thing he's makin'. All I pray is no new scheme ketches him while
he's dressin', for 'twill be all day with the party if it does."
Fortunately no such misadventure befell. Willie was corralled, his
protests smothered, and he was led placidly away by Bob, to emerge
after an interval resigned as a lamb for the slaughter.
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