In two months' time,
my dear young lady, we'll guarantee to pass the house over to you in
apple-pie order, good as new, if not better.... Yes, indeed; better!"
The Judge eyed his empty saucer regretfully.
"That's the best ice cream--" he added with total irrelevance. "Have
some, won't you? I hear they're passing it out free and permiscuous
in the back room."
"I think we should like some cream, if you please, Judge Fulsom,"
said Lydia, "if you'll keep us company."
"Oh, I'll keep company with you, as far as strawberry ice cream's
concerned," chuckled the Judge, his big bulk shaking with humor. "But
I see Mis' Fulsom over there; she's got her weather eye on us. Now,
watch me skeedaddle for that cream! Pink, white or brown, Miss Orr;
or, all three mixed? There's a young fellow out there in charge of
the freezers that sure is a wonder. How about you, Fanny?"
The two girls looked at each other with a smile of understanding as
the big figure of the Judge moved ponderously away.
"We never had ice cream before at a church sociable," said Fanny.
"And I didn't know Mrs. Solomon Black had so many lanterns. Did you
buy all this?"
Her gesture seemed to include the shaded lamps, the masses of flowers
and trailing vines, the gay strains of music, and the plentiful
refreshments which nearly every one was enjoying.
"It's just like a regular party," she added. "We're not used to such
things in Brookville."
"Do you like it?" Lydia asked, doubtfully.
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