"It's sick some--wait till I put it in pepper tea," said Lovelace
Peyton as he lifted the worm.
"Ask Uncle Pomp what he thinks," advised Roxanne, hoping to get rid of
the squirm.
"I bet Uncle Pomp will be skeered to death of him," answered the proud
hunter as he took his departure around the house.
"Oh," sighed Roxy, "some day he will find a real snake and then what
will I do?"
"That is just what I was talking about, Roxanne," I said, returning to
my subject, which is the way my slow, methodical mind works in direct
contrast to Roxanne's way of forgetting one thing because of
enthusiastic interest in the next. "I don't see how you attend to all
of this, this--" I paused to find a name for Roxanne's tumultuous
household.
"Menagerie," Roxanne suggested, with a laugh that floated out over the
bed of ragged red chrysanthemums as sweet and clear as the note of the
cardinal in the tall elm by the gate.
"It's how you get your lessons and stay high up in your class I don't
understand," I answered, still using my compliment tactics. "I've only
known you less than a month, so it might be just luck that you got
first mention for your character sketch of Hawthorne in the rhetoric
class; but Tony says you always get it.
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