geline," said Nellie Agnew; "I should think your father and mother would be tired of having us overrun the place."
"Never you mind about them," declared Evangeline, smiling. "They love to have young folks around. Now, remember! Saturday at noon the autos will start from the Beldings' front door—if it doesn't snow."
"Oh, snow!" cried Bobby. "I hope not yet."
"'Beautiful snow! he may sing whom it suits—
I object to the stuff, 'cause it soaks through my boots!'"
"It's too bad," said Jess, "that Mrs. Kerrick didn't offer a prize for verse. Bobby would win it, sure!"
"Never you mind," said Bobby, with mock solemnity. "I may surprise you all yet. I am capable of turning out tragic stuff—you bet your boots!"
"Mercy, Bobby! how slangy you are getting," murmured Nell Agnew, the doctor's daughter.
"You think I cannot be serious?" demanded Bobby, very gravely. "Listen here. Here is what I call 'The Lay of the Last Minorca'—not the 'Last Minstrel!'
"'She laid the still white form beside those that had gone before,' quoth Bobby, in sepulchral tone.
