“Jis’ take yore folks right on up, Mr. Kamp,” said Uncle Billy, pouncing on the money. “Th’ rooms is th’ three right along th’ hull front o’ th’ house. I’ll be up and make on a fire in a minute. Jis’ take th’ _Jonesville Banner_ an’ th’ _Uticky Clarion_ along with ye.” As the swish of skirts marked the passage of the Van Kamps up the wide hall stairway, the other party swept into the room. The man wrote, in a round flourish, “Edward Eastman Ellsworth, wife, and son.” “I’d like three choice rooms, en suite,” he said. “Gosh!” said Uncle Billy, regretfully. “That’s what Mr. Kamp wanted, fust off, an’ he got it. They hain’t but th’ little room over th’ kitchen left. I’ll have to put you an’ your wife in that, an’ let your boy sleep with th’ driver.” The consternation in the Ellsworth party was past calculating by any known standards of measurement. The thing was an outrage! It was not to be borne! They would not submit to it! Uncle Billy, however, secure in his mastery of the situation, calmly quartered them as he had said. “An’ let ’em splutter all they want to,” he commented comfortably to himself. IV The Ellsworths were holding a family indignation meeting on the broad porch when the Van Ramps came contentedly down for a walk, and brushed by them with unseeing eyes. “It makes a perfectly fascinating suite,” observed Mrs. Van Kamp, in a pleasantly conversational tone that could be easily overheard by anyone impolite enough to listen. “That delightful old-fashioned fireplace in the middle apartment makes it an ideal sitting-room, and the beds are so roomy and comfortable.” “I just knew it would be like this!” chirruped Miss Evelyn. “I remarked as we passed the place, if you will remember, how charming it would be to stop in this dear, quaint old inn over night. All my wishes seem to come true this year.” These simple and, of course, entirely unpremeditated remarks were as vinegar and wormwood to Mrs. Ellsworth, and she gazed after the retreating Van Kamps with a glint in her eye that would make one understand Lucretia Borgia at last. Her son also gazed after the retreating Van Kamp. She had an exquisite figure, and she carried herself with a most delectable grace. As the party drew away from the inn she dropped behind the elders and wandered off into a side path to gather autumn leaves. Ralph, too, started off for a walk, but naturally not in the same direction. “Edward!” suddenly said Mrs. Ellsworth. “I want you to turn those people out of that suite before night!” “Very well,” he replied with a sigh, and got up to do it. He had wrecked a railroad and made one, and had operated successful corners in nutmegs and chicory. No task seemed impossible. He walked in to see the landlord. “What are the Van Kamps paying you for those three rooms?” he asked. “Fifteen dollars,” Uncle Billy informed him, smoking one of Mr. Van Kamp’s good cigars and twiddling his thumbs in huge content.