she told made one gasp. They were always prefaced by an "Oh, my dear, I
can't tell you _that_ one--it's _too_ awful!"

Warble didn't care much for these tales, indeed, frequently missed the
point, and laughed purely from a sense of duty.

As she observed to Petticoat, one day, in exasperation, "There are only
two classes of women in this world--women who tell naughty stories, and
women I have never met!"

Also Lotta Munn was by way of being complimentary. She told Warble that
old Leathersham thought her a peach, and that Trymie Icanspoon declared he
was going to make love to her.

That Mrs. Charity Givens had heard she was a great heiress, and meant to
stick her for a new hospital. That Le Grand Paynter wanted to do her
portrait, life size and full width, and that the Reverend Avery Goodman
said she was very light on her feet for a fat woman.

The last made Warble mad and she made a face at Lotta and sent her home.

* * * * *

A rose-colored June day. Meringues of cloud floating on a sky of cerulean
custard.

She crawled out for a walk. It was ninety-eight in the shade, too hot to
run much.

She walked down Ptomaine Street, her nose shining, and pearly drops