I never opened a door but more or less Polydores fell in. They were at the left of us and at the right of us, with Diogenes always under foot. We had no privacy. I found myself waking suddenly in the night with the uncomfortable feeling that Ptolemy lurked in a dark corner or two of my bedroom. Even Silvia's boudoir was not free from their invasion. But one door in our house remained closed to them. They found no open sesame to Huldah's apartment. "I wish she would let me in on her system," I said. "I wonder how she manages to keep them on the outside?" "I can tell you," confided Silvia. "Emerald and Demetrius went in one day and she dropped Demetrius out the window and kicked Emerald out the door. You know, Lucien, you are too softhearted to resort to such measures." "I was once," I confessed, "but I think under Polydore régime I am getting stoical enough to follow in Huldah's footsteps and go her one better." Our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Diogenes. Silvia screamed. Turning to see what the latest Polydore perpetration might be, I saw that Diogenes was frothing at the mouth. "Oh, he's having a fit!" exclaimed Silvia frantically. "Call Huldah! Put him in a hot bath. Quick, Lucien, turn on the hot water." "Not I," I refused grimly. "Let him have a fit and fall in it." "He ain't got no fit," was the cheerful assurance of Pythagoras, as he sauntered in. "Your mother would have one," I told him, "if she could hear your English." "What is the matter with him?" asked Silvia. "Does he often foam in this way?" "He's been eating your tooth powder," explained Pythagoras. "He likes it 'cause it tastes like peppermint, and then he drank some water before he swallowed the powder and it all fizzed up and run out his mouth." "I wondered," said Silvia ruefully, "what made my tooth powder disappear so rapidly. What shall I do!" "Resort to strategy!" I advised. "Lock up your powder hereafter and fill an empty bottle with powdered alum or something worse and leave it around handy." "Lucien!" exclaimed my wife, who could not seem to recover from this latest annoyance, "I don't see how you can be so fond of children. I did hope--for your sake and--on account of Uncle Issachar's offer that I'd like to have one--but I'd rather go to the poorhouse! I'd almost lose your affection rather than have a child." "But, Silvia!" I remonstrated in dismay, "you shouldn't judge all by these. They're not fair samples. They're not children--not home-grown children." "I should say not!" agreed Huldah, who had come into the room. "They are imps--imps of the devil." I believe she was right. They had a generally demoralizing effect on our household. I was growing irritable, Silvia careworn. Even Huldah showed their influence by acquiring the very latest in slang from them. Once in a while to my amusement I heard Silvia unconsciously adopting the Polydore argot.