THE GIRL AND THE GAME
What I had tried to do was to stand on one foot, but it wouldn't work. I lost my balance, and like a fool stuck out the other foot. I would have gone over if I hadn't caught hold of the table. I hung there, gripping the table, the sweat breaking out on my face, and my hair sticking in my eyes. (I hadn't had my hair cut yet, like some of the fellows.)
"You'd better run along before anybody sees you," I said, trying to lift myself up.
"Billy, don't you move! Do you hear me? Stop it! I say stop it!" And the next thing I knew she had hold of my arm up near the shoulder (I don't believe both hands reach around), and she was saying, "Now, then, slowly; lean on me, Billy; I'm strong—once you told me so yourself. Now am I hurting you? Come down easy. There, now."
"Thank you," I think I said. "Now you had better go."
I suppose she ought really to have gone, oughtn't she? Well, be shocked, all you nice little New York people. Be just as
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