"Great Cæsar's ghost, and the floor not scrubbed!" With a squawk of anxiety he leaped on the scrubbing-brush, and when Milt and Dlorus appeared at the door, Mr. Kloh and Miss Claire Boltwood were wiping up the kitchen floor. Dlorus looked at them, arms akimbo, and sighed, "Hello, Johnny, my, ain't it nice to be back, oh, you had the sink painted, oh, forgive me, Johnny, I was a bad ungrateful woman, I don't care if you don't never take me to no more dances, hardly any, Willy come here, dear, oh, he is such a sweet child, my, his mouth is so dirty, will you forgive me, Johnny, is my overcoat in the moth-balls?" When Mr. Kloh had gone off to the mill--thrice returning from the gate to kiss Dlorus and to thank her rescuers--Claire sat down and yawningly lashed off every inch of Dlorus's fair white skin: "You're at it already; taking advantage of that good man's forgiveness, and getting lofty with him, and rather admiring yourself as a spectacular sinner. You are a lazy, ignorant, not very clean woman, and if you succeed in making Mr. Kloh and Willy happy, it will be almost too big a job for you. Now if I come back from Seattle and find you misbehaving again----" Dlorus broke down. "You won't, miss! And I will raise chickens, like he wanted, honest I will!" "Then you may let me have a room to take a nap in, and perhaps Mr. Daggett could sleep in there on the sofa, and we'll get rested before we start back." Both Milt and Dlorus meekly followed the boss. It was noon before Milt and Claire woke, and discovered that Dlorus had prepared for them scrambled eggs and store celery, served on an almost clean table-cloth. Mr. Kloh came home for lunch, and while Dlorus sat on his lap in the living-room, and repeated that she had been a "bad, naughty, 'ittle dirl--what did the fellows say at the mill?" Milt and Claire sat dumpily on the back porch, regarding scenery which featured of seven tin cans, a broken patent washing-machine, and a rheumatic pear tree. "I suppose we ought to start," groaned Claire. "I have about as much nerve as a rabbit, and as much punch as a bale of hay," Milt admitted. "We're like two children that have been playing too long." "But don't want to go home!" "Quite! Though I don't think much of your idea of a playhouse--those tin cans. But it's better than having to be grown-up." In the midst of which chatter they realized that Mr. Henry B. Boltwood and Dr. Hooker Beach had come round the corner of the house, and were gaping at them. CHAPTER XXIII THE GRAEL IN A BACK YARD IN YAKIMA "I must say that you two have chosen a fine pastoral scene!" observed Mr. Boltwood. "Hhhhhhhhow did you get here?" gasped Claire. "Auto 'bus over Blewett Pass, train here from Ellensburg. That woman--everything all right?" "Yes, everything's fine. We were just starting back, sir," implored Milt. "Huh!" "Awfully sorry, sir, to take Claire on such a hike----"