Sometimes in the
middle of the night, when something goes right in the shop, Douglass
comes in and wakes me up. I dress up in a blanket for a court dress,
and we wake up Lovey and play our royal visit. Do you blame me for not
minding washing and ironing and cooking and toe-poking or
dress-shrinking with a brother who is an idol like that?"
"No, Roxanne, I don't blame you. He--er--Mr. Douglass is worth it
all," I answered with controlled emotion. I thereupon adopted the word
"Idol" to use for him in private between you and me, good Louise. He
deserves it. "He is so perfectly grand that I step on my own toes
whenever I see from a long way off that I must meet him on the
street," I continued. "I turn a corner rather than speak to him. I
never intend to. The sight of him makes me so shy that it is agony." I
didn't in the least mind confessing such a feeling to Roxanne, because
she is the "Idol's"--it looks nice written--sister and will
understand.
"And all the time he is afraid that he will have to back up against a
fence sometime to hide his patches from you," laughed Roxanne in such
merriment that anybody with any sense of pleasant humor would have
joined her at the thought of the Idol and me dancing a minuet to keep
out of each other's way.
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