"I don't believe I'm doing any more talking, anyway, than Tilly is," remarked Cordelia, after a moment's silence. "Of course, Tilly, with her poor arm, would make a lot of questions, anyway; but she _is_ talking a great deal." "I suppose she is," chuckled Genevieve, "and we all know what _she'll_ say." "But she says such absurd things, Genevieve. Why, Charlie Brown--you know he calls us the 'Happy _Tex_agons' now--well, he told me that Tilly'd been bragging so terribly about Texas, and all the fine things there were there, that he asked her this morning real soberly--you know how Charlie Brown _can_ ask questions, sometimes--" "I know," nodded Genevieve. "Well, he asked her, solemn as a judge, 'Do these wondrous tamales of yours grow on trees down there?' "'Oh, yes,' Tilly assured him serenely. And when Charlie, of course, declared that couldn't be, she just shrugged her shoulders and answered: 'Well, of course, Charlie, I'll own I didn't _see_ tamales growing on trees, but Texas is a very large state, and while I didn't, of course, see anywhere near all of it, yet I saw so much, and it was all so different from each other, that I'm sure I shouldn't want to say that I _knew_ they didn't have tamale trees somewhere in Texas!' And then she marched off in that stately way of hers, and Charlie declared he began to feel as if tamale trees did grow in Texas, and that he ought to go around telling folks so." "What a girl she is!" laughed Genevieve. "But, Cordelia, she isn't all nonsense. We found that out that dreadful night of the accident." "Indeed we did," agreed Cordelia, loyally; then, with a profound sigh she added: "O dear! for a minute I'd actually forgotten--Hermit Joe." Hermit Joe lived far up the hillside in a little hut surrounded by thick woods. A tiny path led to his door, but it was seldom trodden by the foot of anybody but of Hermit Joe himself--Hermit Joe did not encourage visitors, and visitors certainly were not attracted by Hermit Joe's stern reticence on all matters concerning himself and every one else. To-day, as the girls entered the path at the edge of the woods, the sun went behind a passing cloud, and the gloom was even more noticeable than usual. "Mercy! I'm glad Hermit Joe _isn't_ dangerous and _doesn't_ bite," whispered Genevieve, peering into the woods on either side. "Aunt Julia says he is really a very estimable man--Cordelia, if I was a man I just wouldn't be an 'estimable' one." "Genevieve!" gasped the shocked Cordelia. Genevieve laughed. "Oh, I'd _be_ it, of course, my dear, only I wouldn't want to be _called_ it. It's the word--it always makes me think of side whiskers and stupidity." "Oh, Genevieve!" cried Cordelia, again. "Well, as I was saying, Aunt Julia told me that Hermit Joe was really a very nice man. She used to know him well before a great sorrow drove him into the woods to live all by himself." Cordelia nodded sadly.