THE exultant Colonel swung himself lightly down from his seat. "I've
brought Mr. Corey with me," he nonchalantly explained.
Mrs. Lapham made their guest welcome, and the Colonel showed him to his
room, briefly assuring himself that there was nothing wanting there.
Then he went to wash his own hands, carelessly ignoring the eagerness
with which his wife pursued him to their chamber.
"What gave Irene a headache?" he asked, making himself a fine lather
for his hairy paws.
"Never you mind Irene," promptly retorted his wife. "How came he to
come? Did you press him? If you DID, I'll never forgive you, Silas!"
The Colonel laughed, and his wife shook him by the shoulder to make him
laugh lower. "'Sh!" she whispered. "Do you want him to hear EVERY
thing? DID you urge him?"
The Colonel laughed the more. He was going to get all the good out of
this. "No, I didn't urge him. Seemed to want to come."
"I don't believe it. Where did you meet him?"
"At the office."
"What office?"
"Mine."
"Nonsense! What was he doing there?"
"Oh, nothing much."
"What did he come for?" "Come for? Oh! he SAID he wanted to go into the
mineral paint business."
Mrs. Lapham dropped into a chair, and watched his bulk shaken with
smothered laughter. "Silas Lapham," she gasped, "if you try to get off
any more of those things on me----"
The Colonel applied himself to the towel. "Had a notion he could work
it in South America. I don't know what he's up to."
"Never mind!" cried his wife. "I'll get even with you YET."
"So I told him he had better come down and talk it over," continued the
Colonel, in well-affected simplicity. "I knew he wouldn't touch it
with a ten-foot pole."
"Go on!" threatened Mrs. Lapham.
"Right thing to do, wa'n't it?"
A tap was heard at the door, and Mrs. Lapham answered it. A maid
announced supper. "Very well," she said, "come to tea now. But I'll
make you pay for this, Silas."
Penelope had gone to her sister's room as soon as she entered the house.
"Is your head any better, 'Rene?" she asked.
"Yes, a little," came a voice from the pillows. "But I shall not come
to tea. I don't want anything. If I keep still, I shall be all right
by morning."
"Well, I'm sorry," said the elder sister. "He's come down with father."
"He hasn't! Who?" cried Irene, starting up in simultaneous denial and
demand.
"Oh, well, if you say he hasn't, what's the use of my telling you who?"
"Oh, how can you treat me so!" moaned the sufferer. "What do you mean,
Pen?"
"I guess I'd better not tell you," said Penelope, watching her like a
cat playing with a mouse. "If you're not coming to tea, it would just
excite you for nothing."
The mouse moaned and writhed upon the bed.
"Oh, I wouldn't treat YOU so!"