He had his tongue firmly between his teeth and his eyes fixed on vacancy as he revolved in furniture--destroying circles about the small parlor.
"That isn't right," cried Annette.

"You've lost the time.

You d-dance with the chair, Sandy, and I'll p-play the p-piano." "No, you don't!" he cried.

"I'll dance with you and put the chair at the piano, but I'll dance with no chair." Annette sank, laughing and exhausted, upon the sofa and looked up at him hopelessly.

Her hair had tumbled down, making her look more like a child than ever.
"You are so b-big," she said; "and you've got so m-many feet!" "The more of me to love ye." "I wonder if you d-do ?" She put her chin on her palms, looking at him sidewise.
"Don't ye do that again!" he cried.