I
can take the child without a whimper from her,--and you know it! So, why
not be sensible and come along too, and look out for her yourself?"
"You shall not take her!" Azalea looked like an angry tigress.
"Gee! Wish I had you on the screen like that! You're some picture!"
"Please, Mr. Merritt," Azalea tried coaxing again, "please believe
me,--I can't take Fleurette again. Her mother--why, Mr. Merritt, you
have children of your own--"
"Sure I have! That's how I know how to treat 'em so well. If mine were
only small enough, I wouldn't need this little cutie. Well, here goes,
then!"
This time he laid such a definite hold on the baby, that Azalea could
scarcely keep the child in her own arms.
In her utter desperation, a new idea struck her. She would try strategy.
"Oh, don't!" she cried, "rather than have you touch her, I'll go--I'll
take her. Let me get her cap and coat."
"Where are they?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Right here, in the library,--just across the hall."
"Go on, then,--I trust you, 'cause I think you're sensible. I'd go along
and keep you in sight, but I want to keep watch if anybody comes. But
you sing, or whistle or something, so's I'll know you're right there."
"All right," and Azalea's heart beat fast, for she had a splendid
scheme.
Into the library she carried Fleurette, singing as she went, and once in
the room, she put the baby on a chair and flew for the record rack.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178