The somebody proved to be Aunt Missouri, who advanced only as far as the end of the hall and shouted cheerfully: “The idea of a growing boy not coming to meals when the bell rings! I thought you two would be in there ahead of us. Come on.” And clinging to their head-coverings as though these contained some charm whereby the owners might be rescued, the unhappy callers were herded into the dining-room. There were many things on the table that boys like. Both were becoming fairly cheerful, when Aunt Missouri checked the biscuit-plate with: “I treat my neighbors’ children just like I’d want children of my own treated. If your mothers let you eat all you want, say so, and I don’t care; but if either of them is a little bit particular, why, I’d stop at six!” Still reeling from this blow, the boys finally rose from the table and passed out with the family, their hats clutched to their bosoms, and clinging together for mutual aid and comfort. During the usual Sunday-evening singing Champe laughed till Aunt Missouri threatened to send her to bed. Abner’s card slipped from his hand and dropped face up on the floor. He fell upon it and tore it into infinitesimal pieces. “That must have been a love-letter,” said Aunt Missouri, in a pause of the music. “You boys are getting ‘‘most old enough to think about beginning to call on the girls.” Her eyes twinkled. Ross growled like a stoned cur. Abner took a sudden dive into _Hints and Helps_, and came up with, “You flatter us, Miss Claiborne,” whereat Ross snickered out like a human boy. They all stared at him. “It sounds so funny to call Aunt Missouri ‘‘Mis’ Claiborne,’” the lad of the freckles explained. “Funny?” Aunt Missouri reddened. “I don’t see any particular joke in my having my maiden name.” Abner, who instantly guessed at what was in Ross’s mind, turned white at the thought of what they had escaped. Suppose he had laid on the card and asked for Miss Claiborne! “What’s the matter, Champe?” inquired Ross, in a fairly natural tone. The air he had drawn into his lungs when he laughed at Abner seemed to relieve him from the numbing gentility which had bound his powers since he joined Abner’s ranks. “Nothing. I laughed because you laughed,” said the girl. The singing went forward fitfully. Servants traipsed through the darkened yard, going home for Sunday night. Aunt Missouri went out and held some low-toned parley with them. Champe yawned with insulting enthusiasm. Presently both girls quietly disappeared. Aunt Missouri never returned to the parlor—evidently thinking that the girls would attend to the final amenities with their callers. They were left alone with old Mr. Claiborne. They sat as though bound in their chairs, while the old man read in silence for a while. Finally he closed his book, glanced about him, and observed absently: “So you boys were to spend the night?” Then, as he looked at their startled faces: “I’m right, am I not? You are to spent the night?”