"Only fancy!" says Purdy. "It's a place called Bombazoula! Why, you can't even find it on the chart. I'd die if I had to live in such a dreadful place." "Is it too late to get busy and hand out the hot air to Stashy?" says I. "Looks to me like it was either you for her, or Bombazoula for you." "Don't!" says Purdy, and he shivers like I'd slipped an icicle down his back. Honest, he was takin' it so hard I didn't have the heart to rub it in. "Maybe Valentine'll renig--who knows?" says I. "He may be so stuck on Africa that she can't call him off." "Oh, Aunt Isabella has thought of that," says he. "She is so provoked with me that she will do everything to make him want to stay; and if I remember Valentine, he'll be willing. Besides, who would want to live in Africa when they could stop in New York? But I do think she might have sent some one else after those snakes." "Oh, yes!" says I. "I'd clean forgot about them. Where do they figure in this?" "Decoration," says Purdy. "In my old rooms too!" Seems that Stashy and aunty had been reading up on Bombazoula, and they'd got it down fine. Then they turns to and lays themselves out to fix things up for Valentine so homelike and comfortable that, even if he was ever so homesick for the jungle, like he wrote he was, he wouldn't want to go any farther. First they'd got a lot of big rubber trees and palms, and filled the rooms full of 'em, with the floors covered with stage grass, and half a dozen grey parrots to let loose. They'd even gone so far as to try to hire a couple of fake Zulus from a museum to come up and sing the moonrise song; so's Vally wouldn't be bothered about goin' to sleep night. The snakes twinin' around the rubber trees was to add the finishin' touch. Course, they wanted the harmless kind, that's had their stingers cut out; but snakes of some sort they'd just got to have, or else they knew it wouldn't seem like home to Valentine. "Just as though I cared whether he is going to feel at home or not!" says Purdy, real pettish. "By, Jove, Shorty! I've half a mind not to do it. So there!" "Gee!" says I. "I wouldn't have your temper for anything. Shall we signal the driver to do a pivot and head her north?" "N-n-n-o," says Purdy, reluctant. And right there I gets a seventh son view of Aunt Isabella crackin' the checkbook at Purdy, and givin' him the cold spine now and then by threatenin' to tear up the will. From that on I feels different towards him. He'd got to a point where it was either please Aunt Isabella, or get out and hustle; and how to get hold of real money except by shovin' pink slips at the payin' teller was part of his education that had been left out. He was up against it for fair. "Say, Purdy," says I, "I don't want to interfere in any family matters; but since you've put it up to me, let me get this chunk of advice off my mind: Long's you've got to be nice to aunty or go on a snowball diet, I'd be nice and do it as cheerful as I could."