r. And as far
as an establishment goes, Cedarholm is the real thing. Gave me quite
some thrill to watch two footmen in silver and baby blue pryin' Marjorie
out of the limousine.

"Gee!" thinks I, glancin' around at the deep verandas, the swing seats,
and the cozy corner nooks. "If Vee and I can't get together for a few
chatty words among all this, then I'm a punk plottist!"

These country house joints are so calm and peaceful too! It's a wonder
anybody could work up a case of nerves, havin' this for a steady thing.
But Edna and Mrs. Pulsifer acted sort of restless and jumpy. She's a
tall, thin, hollow-eyed dame, Mrs. Pulsifer is, with gray hair and a
smooth, easy voice. Miss Edna must take more after her Pa; for she's
filled out better, and while she ain't what you'd call mug-mapped, she
has one of these low-bridge noses and a lot of oily, dark red hair that
she does in a weird fashion of her own with a side part. Seems shy and
bashful too, except when she snuggles up on the lee side of Marjorie and
trails off with her.

The particular party I was strainin' my eyesight for ain't in evidence,
though, and all the hint I gets of her bein' there was hearin' a ripply
laugh at the far end of the hallway when she and Marjorie go to a fond
clinch. That was some comfort, though,--she was in the house!

As I couldn't very well go scoutin' around whistlin' for her to come
out, I does the next best thing. After bein' shown my room I drifts
downstairs and out on the lawn where I'd be some conspicuous. Course I
wa'n't suggestin' anything, but if somebody should happen to see me and
judge that I was lonesome, they might wander out that way too. Sure
enough somebody did,--Ferdie.

"I thought you had to take a nap before dinner," says I, maybe not so
cordial.

"Bother!" says he. "There's no such thing as that possible with those
three girls chattering away in the next room."

"Well, they ain't been together for some time, I expect," says I.

"It's worse than usual," says Ferdie. "A man in the case, you might
know."

"Eh?" says I, prickin' up my ears. "Whose man?"

"Oh, Edna Pulsifer's absurd ditch digger," says Ferdie. "He's a young
engineer, you know, that she's been interested in for a couple of years.
Her father put a stop to it once; kept her in Munich for ten months--and
that's a perfectly deadly place out of season, you know. But it doesn't
seem to have done much good."

I grins. Surprisin' how cheerful I could be so