And Roxanne, instead of blushing, got pale and put her arm around my
neck. Real love always has the right thing to say at the right time.
"Phyllis," she whispered in a tickling fashion right against my ear,
"when Douglass told me about it last night he came back in my room to
say, 'Don't tell a single soul but Phyllis.'"
If some accident should happen to make me famous, I wish the person
that writes my biography could put down how I felt when Roxanne
whispered that to me. I choked a little bit and Roxanne hugged the
choke and was just beginning to tell me about the experiment when
Lovelace Peyton called us to come to him.
He is dreadfully spoiled since he has had to keep so still all the
time, but we try to do just as he says. He lies there in bed and
thinks up all the impossible things that might be done and then asks
us to do them. He longed so for "squirms" that Tony got a wooden box
and made little divisions and brings him in a lot of new ones almost
every day. They fill Roxanne's days and nights with terror. And it is
upsetting to see the fishing-worms in the dirt, while the hop-toad
stays out on the bed a good deal of the time; but we have to stand it
and smile at it in our voices while talking to him, even if we have
terror in our faces.
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