and boy fun now, more than anything else, and he is staying with me so much that there is danger of his growing girlish and—and—what is it you call it?—a mollycoddle.”
“Not much danger of that when you are round,” said Sam, with a smile to point his intended compliment.
Bess took it as such, and beamed on him in return, before she continued,—
“Well, as I say, he needs you all to stir him up and give him a taste of the old fun. Now, it depends on you whether this fun will do him good, or only make him feel farther away from you than ever. Can you think what I mean?”
“Yes, I think I know, Miss Bessie,” said Bert, who was leaning back in the depths of his chair, his knees crossed and his hands loosely clasped in front of him, while his eyes were intently fixed on Bessie’s face. “You mean, if we stir him up in ways he can enjoy, or whether we tease him and do things he can’t have the fun of with us.”
“Who’d be mean enough to tease Fred Allen, anyhow?” asked Sam belligerently.
