I jes' love music, Mrs. Fox declared.
I don't know jes' what I'd do without music an' flowers, Mrs. Bierbauer assented. She regarded her frail umbrella-plant with some pride, almost with an air of motherhood.
At this moment from the street which crossed Leclair Avenue a block above the railroad tracks, a young man turned into the avenue and walked past the house. He was a tall, handsome boy, with brown hair which he parted in the centre, frank, brown eyes, a well-shaped, but rather small nose, and a firm mouth and chin. He was wearing a brown derby hat, a chocolate-shaded coat with padded shoulders, very tight tan trousers, a very high, stiff collar with an Ascot tie, and pointed, patent-leather boots. He passed the house without hailing the Parce. He did not know them, nor was he aware that they were Parce.
Gareth Johns, the town dude, exclaimed Mrs. Bierbauer.
Sissy, I call him, Mrs. Fox corroborated a little shrilly.
They're talkin' o' sendin' him to college. After he gets out I s'pose he'll come home an' do the housework.
Mrs. Fox released a little screech of pleasure at this extremely witty sally.
You do say the funniest things, Mrs. Bierbauer!
Well, ain't it so? What else can he do?
