"I think I would get along all right, though, if they didn't have those grooves at the side of the alleys." Billy Westlake looked at him gravely.

Since Sam did not smile, this could not be a joke.
"But they are absolutely necessary, you know," he protested, as he took his sister's arm and helped her down the slope.
Miss Westlake went away entirely out of patience with the two men, and very much to Billy's surprise gave him her revised estimate of that Hastings girl.

Miss Hastings, however, was in a far different frame of mind.

She was an exclamation point of admiration about an endless variety of things; about the dear little amphitheatre, about how well her friend Miss Westlake was looking and how successful Hallie had been this summer in reducing, and how much Mr.Turner was improving in his tennis and croquet and riding and bowling and everything.

"And, Mr.
Turner, what is pulp?
And do they actually make paper out of it ?" she wound up.
Very gravely Mr.Turner informed her on the process of paper making, and she was a chorus of little vivacious ohs and ahs all the way through.