All these signs of enchantment were denied the
matter-of-fact, unimaginative inhabitants of Windomville. And you
would ask the cause of this amazing transformation?
Before he left the breakfast table Courtney had consented to give a
talk before the Literary Society on the coming Friday night. Mrs.
Maude Baggs Pollock had been at him for a week to tell of his
experiences at the front. She promised a full attendance.
"I've never made a speech in my life," he said, "and I know I'd be
scared stiff, Mrs. Pollock."
"Pooh! Don't you talk to me about being scared! Anybody who did
the things you did over in France--"
"Ah, but you forget I was armed to the teeth," he reminded her,
with a grin.
"Well," put in Charlie Webster, "we'll promise to leave our pistols
at home. The only danger you'll be in, Court, will come from a lot
of hysterical women trying to kiss you, but I think I can fix it
to have the best lookin' ones up in front so that--"
"I wish you wouldn't always try to be funny, Charlie Webster,"
snapped Mrs. Pollock. "Mr. Thane and I were discussing a serious
matter. If you can postpone--"
"I defy anybody to prove that there's anything funny about being
kissed by practically half the grown-up population of Windomville
with the other half lookin' on and cussin' under their breath."
"Don't pay any attention to him, Mr. Thane," said the poetess
of Windomville.
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