I'll go beg a hunk of ice from my dear friend Peter, and make some lemonade as is lemonade; or claret punch, if you aren't a blue ribboner, or white-ribboner, or some other kind of a good-ribboner." Miss Georgie hated herself for sliding into sheer flippancy, but she preferred that extreme to the other, and she could not hold her ground just then at the "happy medium." Evadna, however, seemed to disapprove of the flippancy.

She did not take off her hat, and she stated evenly that she must go, and that she really did not care for lemonade, or claret punch, either.
"What, in Heaven's name, DO you care for--besides yourself ?" flared Miss Georgie, quite humanly exasperated.

"There, chicken--the heat always turns me snappy," she repented instantly.

"Please pinch me." She held out a beautiful, tapering forearm, and smiled.
"I'm the snappy one," said Evadna, but she did not smile as she began drawing on her gauntlets slowly and deliberately.
If she were waiting for Miss Georgie to come back to the subject of Grant, she was disappointed, for Miss Georgie did not come to any subject whatever.

A handcar breezed past the station, the four section-men pumping like demons because of the slight down grade and their haste for their dinner.
Huckleberry gave one snort and one tug backward upon the tie rope and then a coltish kick into the air when he discovered that he was free.