But they hurried on, chattering busily together, and his troubles were deepened by his isolation with the uproarious Willamilla and Hossifer. Passers-by observed him with hearty amusement; and several boys, total strangers to him, gave up a game of marbles and accompanied him for a hundred yards or so, speculating loudly upon his relationship to Willamilla, but finally deciding that Laurence was in love with her and carrying her off to a minister’s to marry her. He felt that his detachment from the rest of his party was largely responsible for exposing him to these insults, and when he had shaken off the marble-players, whose remarks filled him with horror, he made a great effort to overtake the two irresponsible little girls. “_Hay!_ Can’ chu _wait_?” he bawled. “Oh, my good-_nuss_! For heavenses’ sakes! Dog-_gone_ it. Can’ chu _wait_! _I_ can’t carry this baby _all_ the way!” But he did. Panting, staggering, perspiring, with Willamilla never abating her complaint for an instant, and Hossifer warning him fiercely at every one of his many attempts to set her down, Laurence struggled on, far behind the cheery vanguard. Five blocks of anguish he covered before he finally arrived at Elsie Threamer’s gate, whence this unfortunate expedition had set out. Elsie and Daisy were standing near the gate, looking thoughtfully at Willamilla’s grandmother, who was seated informally on the curbstone, and whistling to herself. Laurence staggered to her. “_Oh_, my! Oh, _my_!” he quavered, and would have placed Willamilla in her grandmother’s arms, but once more Hossifer interfered—for his was a mind bent solely upon one idea at a time—and Laurence had to straighten himself quickly. “Make him _quit_ that!” he remonstrated. “He’s done it to me more than five hunderd times, an’ I’m mighty tired of all this around here!” But the coloured woman seemed to have no idea that he was saying anything important, or even that he was addressing himself to her. She rolled her eyes, indeed, but not in his direction, and continued her whistling. “Listen! _Look!_” Laurence urged her. “It’s Willie Miller! I wish he was dead; _then_ I wouldn’t hold him any longer, I bet you! I’d just throw him away like I ought to!” And as she went on whistling, not even looking at him, he inquired despairingly: “My goodness, what’s the _matter_ around here, anyways?” “_Elsie!_” a voice called from a window of the house. “Yes, mamma.” “Come in, dear. Come in quickly.” “Yes’m.” She had no more than departed when another voice called from a window of the house next door, “Daisy! Come in right away! Do you hear, Daisy?” “Yes, mamma.” And Daisy went hurriedly upon the summons.