stave the Bishop off, though. He had to hear the whole
yarn, and the minute he gets it straight he jumps up.

"Binger's a hot-headed old--well," says he, catchin' himself just in
time, "the Major has a way of acting first, and then thinking it over. I
must have a talk with him."

I guess he did, too; for they were at it some time before the Bishop
waves by-by to me and drives off.

I'd just got up from one of Mrs. Whaley's best chicken dinners, when I
hears a hurrah outside, and horses stampin' and a horn tootin'. I rushes
out front, and there was Pinckney, sittin' up on a coach box, just
pullin' his leaders out of Dennis's pansy bed. There was about a dozen
of his crowd on top of the coach, includin' Mrs. Dipworthy--Sadie
Sullivan that was--and Mrs. Twombley Crane, and a lot more.

"Hello, Shorty!" says Pinckney. "Is the doll exhibition still open? If
it is, we want to come in."

They'd met the Bishop; see? And he'd steered 'em along.

Well say, I might have begun the day kind of lonesome, but it had a
lively finish, all right. Inside of ten minutes Sadie has on one of
Mother Whaley's white aprons and is takin' charge. She has some of them
fancy tables and chairs lugged out on the porch, and the first thing I
knows I'm holdin' forth at a pink tea that's the swellest thing of the
kind Primrose Park ever got its eyes on.

CHAPTER XI

No, Nightingale Cottage ain't in the market, and it looks like I'd got a
steady job introducin' Aunt 'Melie's doll collection to society; for
Pinckney carts down a new gang every Sunday. As Sadie's generally on
hand to help out, I'm ready to stand for it. Anyways, I've bought a
fam'ly ticket and laid in a stock of fancy groceries.

The Maje? Oh, him and me made it up handsome. He comes over and tells me
about that Mission Ridge stunt of his every chance he gets. But say, I'm
beginnin' to find out there's others. It's a great place, Primrose Park
is, and when I sized it up as a sort of annex to a cemetery I'd mistook
the signs.

It don't make much difference where you are, all you've got to do to
keep your blood from thinnin' out, is to mix in with folks. Beats all
how much excitement you can dig up that way.

Now, I wa'n't huntin' for anything of the kind, but I was just usin' my
eyes and keepin' my ears open, so I notices that out on the main road,
in front of the Park, is one of those swell big ranches that hog the
shore front all the way from Motthaven up to the jump