At the far end of the garden path was a different sort of scene. Ella May was making Mr. Robert hold one end of a daisy chain she was weavin', and she's prattlin' away kittenish when I edges up, scufflin' my feet warnin' on the gravel. She greets me with a pout. Mr. Robert hangs his head sort of sheepish, but asks hopeful: "Well, Torchy?" "She--she's here again, sir," says I. "Eh?" says he, starin' puzzled. "Who is here?" "S-s-s-sh!" says I, shakin' my head mysterious. All of which don't escape Miss Buell. Her ears are up and her eyes wide open. "What is it?" she asks. "If I could have a few words in private with you, Mr. Robert," says I, "maybe it would be----" "Nonsense!" says he. "Out with it." "Just as you like," says I. "Only, she's brought the kids with her this time. She says how she wants her Robert back." "Wha-a-at!" he gasps. "Couldn't keep her out," says I. "You know how she is. There they are, at the gate." I don't know which was quicker to turn and look, him or Ella May. And just then Mrs. Flynn happens to be gazin' our way, pleadin' and expectant. "Oh!" says Mr. Robert, laughin' careless. "Katie, eh?" Miss Buell has jumped and is starin' at the group. Then, at that laugh of Mr. Robert's, she whirls on him. "Brute!" says she. "I'm glad she's found you." With which she dashes towards the house and disappears, leavin' Mr. Robert gawpin' after her. "Why," says he, "you--you don't suppose she could have imagined that--that----" "Maybe she did," says I. "My fault, I expect. I could find her, though, and explain how it was. I'll bet that inside of five minutes she'd be back here finishin' the floral wreath. Shall I?" "Back here?" he echoes, kind of vague. Then he comes to. "No, no!" says he. "I--I'd rather not. I want first to---- Where is Miss Hampton, Torchy?" Well, I gives him full directions for findin' her, slips Mrs. Ryan the twenty he sends her instead of news from hubby, and then goes in, to find that Ella May is demandin' to be taken to the next train. We saw that she caught it, too, before she changed her mind. "By George!" Mr. Robert whispers confidential to me, as the limousine rolls off with her in it, "if I could insure against such risks as that, I would take out a policy." "You can," says I. "Any justice of the peace or minister will fix you up for life." Does that sink in? I wouldn't wonder. Anyway, from the hasty glimpse I caught of him and Miss Hampton strollin' out in the moonlight that night, it looked that way. So I did have a bulletin for Old Hickory Monday mornin'. "It's all over but the shoutin'," says I. CHAPTER XIX SOME HOOP-LA FOR THE BOSS