The boys had
a certain fancy for moonlight--hand made.
"I'll wager you are Bess," whispered a very handsome Adonis in a
real Greek costume--all but the pedestal.
"Yes," answered the girl with a titter. "As you please--but, I pray
you, fair sir, am I not a good milkmaid?"
"The best ever," replied Adonis. "Pray let us stroll in yonder
meadow."
Slipping his hand into the bare arm of the milkmaid, Adonis drew the
figure down a pith toward the small lake that was on one edge of the
Kimball property.
"Now I have some one to talk to," he declared with evident
satisfaction.
"Oh, is that all?" replied the maid in some contempt "I can't see
just why I should fill in that way," and she arose from her seat at
the water's edge. "Besides," she added, "I hate Greeks. They are so
vain!" and with this she hurried after a girl in a nun's costume,
who was walking along the path to the pavilion.
"Well!" exclaimed the disappointed youth, "that was hard luck. And
just as I was going to say something nice, too. However, it'll keep,
I suppose," and he followed the two figures--the nun and the
milkmaid--toward the dancing platform.
A veritable Rosebud was bowing on the porch to the row of unmasked
patronesses, several ladies of Mrs.
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