cue for goin' into
action. He has cornered Auntie scientific and while turnin' in a general
alarm he has improved the time by tearin' mouthfuls out of her dress. At
that, too, it's lucky he hadn't begun to take mouthfuls out of Auntie.

As for the old girl, she's so scared she can't talk and so mad she can
hardly see. She stands there limp in a tattered skirt with some of her
gray store hair that has slipped its moorin's restin' jaunty over one
ear and her eyes blazin' hostile.

"Oh, Auntie!" begins Vee. "It was all my----"

"Not a word, Verona," snaps Auntie. "I know perfectly well who is
responsible for this--this outrage." With that she glares at me.

Course, we both tells her just how the mistake was made, over and over,
but it don't register.

"Humph!" says she at last. "If I didn't remember a warning I had at
dinner perhaps I might think as you do, Verona. But I trust that nothing
else has been--er--arranged for my benefit."

"That's generous, anyway," says I, indulgin' in a sarcastic smile.

It's an hour before Auntie's nerves are soothed down enough for her to
make another stab at enjoyin' a peaceful night. Even then she demands to
know what that throbbin' noise is that she hears.

"Oh, that?" says I. "Only the cistern pump fillin' up the rain water
tank in the attic. That'll quit soon. Automatic shut-off, you know."

"Verona," she goes on, ignorin' me, "you are certain it is quite all
right, are you?"

"Oh, yes," says Vee. "It's one we had put in only last week. Runs by
electricity, or some thing. Anyway, the plumber explained to Torchy just
how it works. He knows all about it, don't you, Torchy?"

"Uh-huh," says I, careless.

I did, too. The plumber had sketched out the workin's of the thing
elaborate to me, but I didn't see the need of spendin' the rest of the
night passin' an examination in the subject. Besides, a few of the
details I was a little vague about.

"Very well, then," says Auntie. And she consents to make one more stab
at retirin'.

I couldn't help sighin' relieved when we heard her door shut. "Now if
the roosters don't start crowin'," says I, "or a tornado don't hit us,
or an earthquake break loose, all will be well. But if any of them
things do happen, I'll be blamed."

"Nonsense," says Vee. "Auntie is going to have a nice, quiet, restful
night and in the morning she will be herself again."

"Here's hoping," says I.

And if it's good evidence I'd like to submit the fact th