"
"You try it," I said. "It's the only way."
"I'll be glad when it's over," he remarked dreamily.
"Whatever you do, keep clear of set speeches," I went on. "Blurt it out,
no matter how badly--but with all the fire and ginger in you."
He gazed at me like a dead calf.
"Here goes," he said, and started on a trembling walk toward the house.
I don't know whether he was afraid, or didn't get the chance, or what
it was; but at any rate the afternoon wore on without the least sign
of his coming to time. I kept tab on him as well as I could--checkers
with Miss Drayton--half an hour writing letters--a long talk with the
major--and finally his getting lost altogether in the shrubbery with
an old lady. Freddy said the suspense was killing her, and was terribly
despondent and miserable. I couldn't interest her in the Seventy-second
Street house at all. She asked what was the good of working and
worrying, and figuring and making lists--when in all probability it
would be another girl that would live there.
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