THE children were playing "statues" on the Driggs lawn. "Furious Rage!" Laddie Baylow called, spinning them around, whirling them off into space, while the Greens' old Shep dashed among them, barking, wagging his tail. Each child fell into position, trying to stop giggling long enough to look raging and furious. Dotty Jackson was best. "Beautifulness!" And they went whirling into new positions, the boys being silly, stretching their mouths and rolling their eyes. Charlotte really tried to be most beautiful, staggering about longer than she need, and flinging up an arm in what she felt was a graceful manner, hoping that Hoagland was looking at her. And she felt warm and glowing when Dotty, in spite of the fact that Charlotte was a plain, solid child, with spectacles, and hair cut like a boy's under the two bunches of pale-yellow shavings she had stuck beneath her hat over each ear, chose her as most beautiful.
Jodie staggered about, reeling in exaggerated circles, copying the big boys. His old straw sailor hat bumped against his shoulders, hanging from a knotted elastic around his neck; he was so hot that his hair stuck in damp points on his forehead.
The air was drenched with the perfume of lilacs;
