I want to feed my
face again. It needs it!"
"You give Father one straight look between the eyes," suggested the
sardine, now at his back, "sort of as if he was a lion, and I'd bet my
bottom dollar, if I had one, he dasn't hand you the frosty mitt."
"Who's Father?" the lion tamer threw over his shoulder Win had longed
to ask the same question, but had not liked to betray herself as an
amateur.
"Oh, I forgot this was your first party! Wish 'twas mine. Father's
what the supe--the superintendent, the gent in the window--gets
himself called by us guyls."
"Wipe me off the map! I'm some Johnny to cost you all that breath.
But gee! the thought of standin' up to him gets my goat worse 'n twice
his weight in lions. I'm mighty glad this young lady's gotta go
through with it in front of me. Say, maybe you'll push the right bell
with him, too."
"I hope we both may," answered Win fervently. "It's more than kind of
you to give me your place, but really I---"
"Ain't we the polite one?" remarked the lion tamer. "Say, girlie,
you've made a hit with me. Where did you buy your swell accent?"
"Don't make fun of me, please, or I shall drop!" exclaimed Win with a
laugh nipped in the bud, lest it should reach the august ear of
Father.
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