Having uttered these terrible words, he turned upon his heel and marched toward the house.  His mother called after him: 

“Wait, Willie.  Jane doesn’t mean to hurt your feelings—­”

“My feelings!” he cried, the iciness of his demeanor giving way under the strain of emotion.  “You stand there and allow her to speak as she did of one of the—­one of the—­” For a moment William appeared to be at a loss, and the fact is that it always has been a difficult matter to describe the bright, ineffable divinity of the world to one’s mother, especially in the presence of an inimical third party of tender years.  “One of the—­” he said; “one of the—­the noblest—­one of the noblest—­”

Again he paused.

“Oh, Jane didn’t mean anything,” said Mrs. Baxter.  “And if you think Miss Pratt is so nice, I’ll ask May Parcher to bring her to tea with us some day.  If it’s too hot, we’ll have iced tea, and you can ask Johnnie Watson, if you like.  Don’t get so upset about things, Willie!”

“’Upset’!” he echoed, appealing to heaven against this word. “’Upset’!” And he entered the house in a manner most dramatic.

“What made you say that?” Mrs. Baxter asked, turning curiously to Jane when William had disappeared.  “Where did you hear any such things?”

“I was there,” Jane replied, gently eating on and on.  William could come and William could go, but Jane’s alimentary canal went on forever.

“You were where, Jane?”

“At the Parchers’.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yesterday afternoon,” said Jane, “when Miss Parcher had the Sunday-school class for lemonade and cookies.”

“Did you hear Miss Parcher say—­”

“No’m,” said Jane.  “I ate too many cookies, I guess, maybe.  Anyways, Miss Parcher said I better lay down—­”

“Lie down, Jane.”

“Yes’m.  On the sofa in the liberry, an’ Mrs. Parcher an’ Mr. Parcher came in there an’ sat down, after while, an’ it was kind of dark, an’ they didn’t hardly notice me, or I guess they thought I was asleep, maybe.  Anyways, they didn’t talk loud, but Mr. Parcher would sort of grunt an’ ack cross.  He said he just wished he knew when he was goin’ to have a home again.  Then Mrs. Parcher said May had to ask her Sunday-school class, but he said he never meant the Sunday-school class.  He said since Miss Pratt came to visit, there wasn’t anywhere he could go, because Willie Baxter an’ Johnnie Watson an’ Joe Bullitt an’ all the other ones like that were there all the time, an’ it made him just sick at the stummick, an’ he did wish there was some way to find out when she was goin’ home, because he couldn’t stand much more talk about love.  He said Willie an’ Johnnie Watson an’ Joe Bullitt an’ Miss Pratt were always arguin’ somep’m about love, an’ he said Willie was the worst.  Mamma, he said he didn’t like the rest of it, but he said he guessed he could stand it if it wasn’t for Willie.  An’ he said the reason they