“Never mind, Josephine,” said Mr. Sage gently. “I am sure our good friends will overlook—oh, by the by, Joseph, there are two strange women on the porch. Perhaps you—” “Go see who it is, Joe,” commanded Mrs. Grimes crisply. “You come upstairs now, Oliver, and put your feet in this pail of mustard and water. Come on, now. Say good night to—” “But, doggone it, I don’t want to go upstairs. I don’t want to put my feet in—” “Do you want that boy of yours to be an orphan before he’s hardly had his eyes open?” demanded Mrs. Grimes, severely. “Well, that’s what he’ll be if you catch lung fever.” “Better do what Serepty says, Ollie,” advised Mr. Link. “That’s right, Ollie,” added Mr. Sikes. “You go on upstairs. I’ll say good night to everybody for you.” “You go and see who’s out there on the porch, Joe Sikes. Don’t let any strangers in, do you hear? Oh, yes, Mr. Sage, I almost forgot. I fixed up a nice gargle for you—salt and pepper and hot vinegar. It’s on the kitchen table. There’s a strip of bacon laying there too. I’ll bring down one of Mr. Baxter’s wool socks to tie around—For goodness’ sake, Joe Sikes, shut that door before you open the front door. Do you want to freeze us all to death?” “Wonderful manager, ain’t she?” confided Mr. Link in an aside to the minister. “I see no reason why I should gargle a perfectly well throat and tie a sock of Brother Baxter’s—” “You’d better do it,” broke in the other hastily. “She knows what’s best.” “I tell you I’m not going upstairs, Serepty. I got a right to set here and receive congratulations, and I’m going to do it. And I’m going to set ’em up to cigars—and if anybody wants a drink of whiskey on me all they got to do is to say so. You let me alone, Serepty. I’m all right. You go up and see if everything’s all right with Mary and Oliver October. I’m going to set right here and—” “I’ll put this mustard bath in the spare room, Oliver,” interrupted Mrs. Grimes sternly. “It will be ready for you when you come up—before long.” Mrs. Gooch whispered to her glowering husband: “I don’t see anything about her to be afraid of. Why, she ain’t much bigger than a minute, is she?” Tall Mr. Gooch eyed little Mrs. Grimes dubiously. “I don’t know,” said he in reply. “They say Napoleon was a little feller.” “Did I spill the beans all over the shop, Herby dear?” murmured the guilty Mrs. Sage, looking up at her husband much as a culprit looks up at his judge. “I do wish, Josephine, you would be a _little_ more careful what you say,” said he, lowering his voice as he bent over her. “Please try to remember your—our position here. It is—” His mild admonition was interrupted by the abrupt return of Joseph Sikes, who, in his excitement, neglected to close not only the sitting-room door but the one opening on to the porch. Mrs. Gooch, as if jumping at the opportunity, sneezed violently and transfixed him with an accusing look.