Erveng
of us, looking from one to the other.
I began: "Because Ma--" but Phil gave me a hard nudge of the elbow: "Max
mightn't like us to tell that," he mumbled, which ended my explanation.
But I was determined to get in a few remarks: "Papa doesn't know a thing
about our doing this," I said very fast, for fear Phil would interrupt
again, "and we don't want him to. We just came here and told you about
the Fe--his book, because we were sure he'd never tell you, or let you
see it, himself, and we thought if you knew of it, you would want to
buy it from him, and that would make him finish it up,--papa's been
_years_ writing that book,--and then Felix could go to college and--"
"_Betty!_" broke in Phil, in such a sharp, angry tone, and with such a
red face, that I moved away from him.
"That's where I've seen you,--at college," exclaimed the boy; he talks
in a slow, deliberate way, something like Judge. "They _do_ live across
the way, father; I've seen him"--with a nod of his head at Phil--"going
in there."
"Ah, really, how kind of you to remember me!" cried Phil, with sarcasm.
"Please let me have that manuscript, Mr. Erveng, and we will go home.
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