When I turns around, the Bishop stands there with his mouth open. "Why," says he--"why, professor!" That was as far as he could get. He gasps once or twice and gets out something that sounds like "Remarkable, truly remarkable!" "That's the word," says I. "I'll bet there ain't another lot like this in the country." "I--I hope not," says he. "No offence meant, though. Do you--er--do this sort of thing yourself?" Well, I had to loosen up then. I told him about Aunt 'Melie, and how I'd bought the place unsight and unseen. And when he finds this was my first view of the parlor it gets him in the short ribs. He has a funny fit. Every time he takes a look at them dolls he has another spasm. I gets him out on the porch again, and he sits there slappin' his knees and waggin' his head and wipin' his eyes. By-'m'-by the Bishop calms down and says I've done him more good than a trip to Europe. "You must let me bring Major Binger over," says he. "I want him to see those dolls. You two are bound to be great cronies." "I've got my doubts about that," says I. "But don't you go to mixin' up in this affair, Bishop. I don't want to lug you in for any trouble with any of your old friends." You couldn't stave the Bishop off, though. He had to hear the whole yarn, and the minute he gets it straight he jumps up. "Binger's a hot-headed old--well," says he, catchin' himself just in time, "the Major has a way of acting first, and then thinking it over. I must have a talk with him." I guess he did, too; for they were at it some time before the Bishop waves by-by to me and drives off. I'd just got up from one of Mrs. Whaley's best chicken dinners, when I hears a hurrah outside, and horses stampin' and a horn tootin'. I rushes out front, and there was Pinckney, sittin' up on a coach box, just pullin' his leaders out of Dennis's pansy bed. There was about a dozen of his crowd on top of the coach, includin' Mrs. Dipworthy--Sadie Sullivan that was--and Mrs. Twombley Crane, and a lot more. "Hello, Shorty!" says Pinckney. "Is the doll exhibition still open? If it is, we want to come in." They'd met the Bishop; see? And he'd steered 'em along. Well say, I might have begun the day kind of lonesome, but it had a lively finish, all right. Inside of ten minutes Sadie has on one of Mother Whaley's white aprons and is takin' charge. She has some of them fancy tables and chairs lugged out on the porch, and the first thing I knows I'm holdin' forth at a pink tea that's the swellest thing of the kind Primrose Park ever got its eyes on. CHAPTER XI No, Nightingale Cottage ain't in the market, and it looks like I'd got a steady job introducin' Aunt 'Melie's doll collection to society; for Pinckney carts down a new gang every Sunday. As Sadie's generally on hand to help out, I'm ready to stand for it. Anyways, I've bought a fam'ly ticket and laid in a stock of fancy groceries.