staved off for a little while. Let them spring it, he told himself, with the feeling of a deeply injured party. He was not supposed to know anything about their business, although on the face of appearances it was plain enough for anybody to conclude.—"That's funny," said Edith, her face a puzzle of cross-running emotions as she stood looking at the brief writing Mrs. Peck had left. "That's darned funny," she amended, a little more forcefully, passing the note on to Tippie.
"Um-m-m," said Tippie, glum as glue, seeming to study the note. "Not as funny as some things I've read."
He handed it to Rawlins, who asked Edith's permission in a questioning glance. Edith flushed, laughed queerly, nodded.
Rawlins read the hastily written line or two; read again, grinned a feeble, knocked-out sort of grin, looking from one to the other. The writing ran:
Edith, I give you them sheep for a wedding present from your old aunt,
"Wedding present!" said Edith, red as a geranium. "Well, I like"
"Sure," said Tippie. "Weddin' present."
"I con" Rawlins began, to be stopped by Edith with interdictory hand.
"Sh-h-h! you might say something," she said, a laugh in her eyes.
"Sure; weddin' present," Tippie repeated. "The old lady thinks you're goin' to get married."
