Course, these young gents was guests of mine, and I hadn't interfered before with their partic'lar way of enjoyin' themselves; so I couldn't begin now. But after they was through, and a draggled, chokin', splutterin' youth had gone beatin' it up the path and over towards the next place, I strolls down to meet 'em as they are comin' up to the house. "Hope you didn't see what happened down there just now, Professor," says Bobbie. "Me?" says I. "Well, if I did I can forget it quick." "Thanks, old man!" says both of 'em, pattin' me friendly on the shoulder. "The little beast!" adds Charles. "He had the nerve to say you had put him up to it. That's what finally earned him his ducking, you know." "Well, well!" says I. "Such a nice spoken youngster too!" "Huh!" says Bobbie. "I suppose there'll be no end of a row about this when he gets home with his tale; but we'll stand for it. Meanwhile let's go up and get the girls to give us some music." Say, I don't believe Harold ever mentioned it to a soul. It's a funny thing too, but he hasn't been over here since. And someway, gettin' better acquainted with the boys in that fashion, made it pleasanter all round. But no more entertainin' lovers for us! Harolds ain't common enough. CHAPTER VII CORNELIA SHOWS SOME CLASS "Oh, by the way, Shorty," says Sadie to me the other mornin', just as I'm makin' an early get-away for town. "Another postscript, eh?" says I. "Well, let it come over speedy." "It's something for Mrs. Purdy-Pell," says she. "I'd almost forgotten." "Is it orderin' some fancy groceries, or sendin' out a new laundry artist?" says I. "If it is, why I guess I can----" "No, no," says Sadie, givin' my tie an extra pat and brushin' some imaginary dust off my coat collar; "it's about Cousin Cornelia. She's in town, you know, and neither of the Purdy-Pells can get in to see her before next week on account of their garden party, and Cornelia is staying at a hotel alone, and they're a little anxious about her. So look her up, won't you? I told them you would. You don't mind, do you?" "Me?" says I. "Why, I've been waitin' for this. Makin' afternoon calls on weepy old maids is my specialty." "There, there!" says Sadie, followin' me out on the veranda. "Don't play the martyr! Perhaps Cornelia isn't the most entertaining person in the world, for she certainly has had her share of trouble; but it isn't going to hurt you merely to find out how she is situated and ask if you can be of any help to her. You know, if there was anything she could do for us, she would----" "Oh, sure!" says I. "If I'm ever brought home on a shutter, I shall look for Cornelia to be waitin' on the mat with a needle and thread, ready to sew mournin' bands on the help."