washin' or put the children in the poah-honse and go on the stage."
"Don't you put me in the poah-house, ma, or I'll baste Undine over the haid."
Mrs. Blakely turned wet eyes upon her offspring.
"Don't do no thin' like that, my lamb. Clytie, git ma a handkerchief."
"Regina, git ma"
"Undine, hand ma that urpern off the chair."
Mrs. Blakely buried her face in the apron and a sympathetic bellow arose—a bellow so loud that no one heard the rattle of wheels and the subsequent click of heels upon the hard-trodden dooryard.
It was not until Edith's startled stare caught their attention that the Blakely family were aware that the Hon. "Hank" Spiser was regarding them with a faint sneer upon his face from the doorway.
An ogre in their midst would have had much the same effect. He stared hardest at Nan, who made no motion to return his sweeping salutation.
