PART 1
7. CHAPTER SEVEN
(continued)
Amy hastily shook out half a dozen and laid the rest down before
Mr. Davis, feeling that any man possessing a human heart would relent
when that delicious perfume met his nose. Unfortunately, Mr. Davis
particularly detested the odor of the fashionable pickle, and disgust
added to his wrath.
"Is that all?"
"Not quite," stammered Amy.
"Bring the rest immediately."
With a despairing glance at her set, she obeyed.
"You are sure there are no more?'
"I never lie, sir."
"So I see. Now take these disgusting things two by two, and
throw them out of the window."
There was a simultaneous sigh, which created quite a little gust,
as the last hope fled, and the treat was ravished from their longing
lips. Scarlet with shame and anger, Amy went to and fro six dreadful
times, and as each doomed couple, looking oh, so plump and juicy, fell
from her reluctant hands, a shout from the street completed the anguish
of the girls, for it told them that their feast was being exulted over
by the little Irish children, who were their sworn foes. This--this
was too much. All flashed indignant or appealing glances at the
inexorable Davis, and one passionate lime lover burst into tears.
As Amy returned from her last trip, Mr. Davis gave a portentous
"Hem!" and said, in his most impressive manner...
"Young ladies, you remember what I said to you a week ago. I
am sorry this has happened, but I never allow my rules to be infringed,
and I never break my word. Miss March, hold out your hand."
Amy started, and put both hands behind her, turning on him an
imploring look which pleaded for her better than the words she could
not utter. She was rather a favorite with `old Davis', as, of course,
he was called, and it's my private belief that he would have broken
his word if the indignation of one irrepressible young lady had not
found vent in a hiss. That hiss, faint as it was, irritated the
irascible gentleman, and sealed the culprit's fate.
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