“Try to get him to come, then,” said Mrs. Carter. “I really should like to have him here, and if you can give the time to him, it will be real mission work.”
“I’ll try,” said Bess, “but I fear me. Oh, mother!” And, lying back on the rug, she laughed hysterically.
“Well?”
“That Sam Boeminghausen will be the death of me! To-night he had a piece, a large piece of candy in his hand when I passed the corn-balls. Instead of taking one in his other hand, he coolly replied: ‘Just wait till I git this down.’ And he actually kept me standing there while he deliberately devoured his candy.”
“Bess!”
“It’s a fact, and I was left speechless.”
“After all,” said Mrs. Carter meditatively, “I rather like the boy’s idea. He was going to make a ‘clean sweep,’ as Teddy would say, and not have any scraps left over. And I did think his going home when he wanted so much to stay was really heroic.”
A yelp from Fuzz cut short the conversation.
