" And at the merry lilting of it
Bibbs's father's son took heart to forget some of his trepidation.
"I'll be any kind of idiot," he said, "if you'll laugh at me some
more. It won't be difficult for me."
She did; and Bibbs's cheeks showed a little actual color, which
Mary perceived. It recalled to her, by contrast, her careless and
irritated description of him to her mother just after she had seen
him for the first time. "Rather tragic and altogether impossible."
It seemed to her now that she must have been blind.
They had passed the New House without either of them showing--or
possessing--any consciousness that it had been the destination of
one of them.
"I'll keep on talking," Bibbs continued, cheerfully, "and you keep on
laughing. I'm amounting to something in the world this afternoon.
I'm making a noise, and that makes you make music. Don't be bothered
by my bleating out such things as that. I'm really frightened, and
that makes me bleat anything. I'm frightened about two things: I'm
afraid of what I'll think of myself later if I don't keep talking--
talking now, I mean--and I'm afraid of what I'll think of myself if
I do. And besides these two things, I'm frightened, anyhow.
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