With occasional witty interruptions from the actor, Mr. Wrenn
told of pitching hay, of the wit of Morton, and the wickedness
of Satan, the boss.
"But you haven't told us about the brave things _you_ did," cooed
Mrs. Arty. She appealed to Nelly Croubel: "I'll bet he was a
cool one. Don't you think he was, Nelly?"
"I'm sure he was." Nelly's voice was like a flute.
Mr. Wrenn knew that there was just one thing in the world that
he wanted to do; to persuade Miss Nelly Croubel that (though he
was a solid business man, indeed yes, and honorable) he was a
cool one, who had chosen, in wandering o'er this world so wide,
the most perilous and cattle-boaty places. He tried to think of
something modest yet striking to say, while Tom was arguing with
Miss Mary Proudfoot, the respectable spinster, about the ethics
of giving away street-car transfers.
As they finished their floating custard Mr. Wrenn achieved,
"Do you come from New York, Miss Croubel?" and listened to the
tale of sleighing-parties in Upton's Grove, Pennsylvania.
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