trike, and a free-for-all fight, and a conduit
explosion hadn't prepared Auntie to hit the feathers early. So at 1:30
A. M. she was still wide awake and wanderin' around in her nightie with
the shades up and the lights out. That's how she happened to be
stretchin' her neck out of the window when this offensive broke loose
on the roof of the buildin' across the way.

Auntie was just wondering why those two men were skylarking around on
the roof so late at night when two more popped out of skylights and
began to bang away at them with revolvers. Then the first two started to
shoot back, and the first thing Auntie knew there was a crash right over
her head where a stray bullet had wandered through the upper pane. Upon
which Auntie screamed and fainted. Of course, she had read about loft
robbers, but she hadn't seen 'em in action. And she didn't want to see
'em at such close range any more. Not her. She'd had enough, thank you.
So when she came to from her faintin' spell she begun packin' her
trunks. After breakfast she'd called Vee on the 'phone, sketched out
some of her troubles, and been invited to come straight to Harbor Hills.

"It was the only thing to be done," says Vee.

"Well, maybe," says I. "Course, she might have tried another apartment
hotel. They don't all have strikes and explosions and burglar hunts
goin' on. Not every night. She might have taken a chance or one or two
more."

"But with her nerves all upset like that," protests Vee, "I don't see
why she should, when here we are with----"

"Yes, I expect there was no dodgin' it," I agrees.

At dinner Auntie is still sort of jumpy but she says it's a great
satisfaction to know that she is out here in the calm, peaceful country.
"It's dull, of course," she goes on, "but at the same time it is all so
restful and soothing. One knows that nothing whatever is going to
happen."

"Ye-e-es," says I, draggy. "And yet, you can't always tell."

"Can't always tell what?" demands Auntie.

"About things not happenin' out here," says I.

"But, Torchy," says Vee, "what could possibly happen here; that is, like
those things in town?"

I shrugs my shoulders and shakes my head.

"How absurd!" says Vee.

Auntie gives me one of them cold storage looks of hers. "I have usually
noticed," says she, "that things do not happen of themselves. Usually
some one is responsible for their happening."

What she meant by that I couldn't quite make out. Oh yes, takin' a
little