"One of the most sensible women I have ever met," commented William
Clodd. "Lucky man, whoever he is. Half wish I'd thought of it
myself."
"I am not saying that he isn't," retorted Miss Fossett. "It isn't
him I'm worrying about."
"I preesume you mean 'he,'" suggested the Wee Laddie. "The verb
'to be'--"
"For goodness' sake," suggested Miss Fossett to Tommy, "give that
man something to eat or drink. That's the worst of people who take
up grammar late in life. Like all converts, they become
fanatical."
"She's a ripping good sort, is Mary Ramsbotham," exclaimed Grindley
junior, printer and publisher of Good Humour. "The marvel to me is
that no man hitherto has ever had the sense to want her."
"Oh, you men!" cried Miss Fossett. "A pretty face and an empty
head is all you want."
"Must they always go together?" laughed Mrs. Grindley junior, nee
Helvetia Appleyard.
"Exceptions prove the rule," grunted Miss Fossett.
"What a happy saying that is," smiled Mrs. Grindley junior. "I
wonder sometimes how conversation was ever carried on before it was
invented."
"De man who would fall in love wid our dear frent Mary," thought
Dr. Smith, "he must be quite egsceptional."
"You needn't talk about her as if she was a monster--I mean were,"
corrected herself Miss Fossett, with a hasty glance towards the Wee
Laddie.
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