"As your mother! Think of her doing that! She's a darling! And
papa"--here she imperfectly repressed a tendency to laugh--"papa
looks as if he were either going to explode or utter loud sobs!"
Eugene commanded his features, however, and they resumed their
customary apprehensiveness. "I used to write verse," he said--"if you
remember--"
"Yes," Isabel interrupted gently. "I remember."
"I don't recall that I've written any for twenty years or so," he
continued. "But I'm almost thinking I could do it again, to thank
you for making a factory visit into such a kind celebration."
"Gracious!" Lucy whispered, giggling. "Aren't they sentimental"
"People that age always are," George returned. "They get sentimental
over anything at all. Factories or restaurants, it doesn't matter
what!"
And both of them were seized with fits of laughter which they managed
to cover under the general movement of departure, as Isabel had risen
to go.
Outside, upon the crowded street, George helped Lucy into his
runabout, and drove off, waving triumphantly, and laughing at Eugene
who was struggling with the engine of his car, in the tonneau of which
Isabel and Fanny had established themselves.
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