How can you sympathize with your
friends' affairs if you don't make them tell you all? And sympathy
applied to life is like the gasoline in a motorcar, I think.
"Well, I should say they were all going," answered Tony
enthusiastically. "Even Belle, the beauty, can hardly wait for the
get-away. She is putting buttermilk on her freckles so that the moon
won't see 'em. Miss Prissy is over at Roxanne's now, trying to baste
Roxy together for the frolic."
"I think Roxanne always looks lovelier than anybody," I said quickly;
for I didn't think I could bear to have even Tony, when I know what a
great love he has for her, criticize Roxanne's shabbiness. They don't
any of them know what a heroine she is, and about the great cause.
"Course she looks good, 'cause she is the pretty child; but I always
feel like carrying a needle and thread and a card of pins when Roxy is
along. And let me tell you the bug-doctor is about to burst out into
the cold world from his aprons. I know old Doug makes enough to rag
the family, but Roxy is just behindhand getting rabbit skins to wrap
the buntings in. Lots of girls are poky about doing around.
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