irritable or facetious, inclined now to be facetious. "Filling teeth?"
he would know. "Marrying folks, then?" Assistant justice or assistant
dentist--which?

Bobby blushed. No, no, but in that big building of Mr. Deacon's where
his office was, wasn't there something ... It faded from him, sounded
ridiculous. Of course there was nothing. He saw it now.

There was nothing. Mr. Deacon confirmed him. But Mr. Deacon had an idea.
Hold on, he said--hold on. The grass. Would Bobby consider taking charge
of the grass? Though Mr. Deacon was of the type which cuts its own
grass and glories in its vigour and its energy, yet in the time after
that which he called "dental hours" Mr. Deacon wished to work in his
garden. His grass, growing in late April rains, would need attention
early next month ... he owned two lots--"of course property _is_ a
burden." If Bobby would care to keep the grass down and raked ... Bobby
would care, accepted this business opportunity, figures and all, thanked
Mr. Deacon with earnestness. Bobby's aversion to Di, it seemed, should
not stand in the way of his advancement.

"Then that is checked off," said Mr. Deacon heartily.

Bobby wavered toward the door, emerged on the porch, and ran almost upon
Di returning from her tea-party at Jenny Plow's.

"Oh, Bobby! You came to see me?"

She was as fluffy, as curly, as smiling as her picture. She was carrying
pink, gauzy favours and a spear of flowers. Undeniably in her voice
there was pleasure. Her glance was startled but already complacent. She