Fifi, who sat on the arm of Sharlee's chair, laughed and coughed. "He
never writes any. And he never has gotten but one, and that came
to-night."

"Fifi, did you take your syrup before supper? Well, go and take it this
minute."

"Mother, it doesn't do any good."

"The doctor gave it to you, my child, and it's going to make you better
soon."

Sharlee followed Fifi out with troubled eyes. However, Mrs. Paynter at
once drew her back to the matter in hand.

"Sharlee, do you know what would be the very way to settle this little
difficulty? To write him a formal, businesslike letter. We'll--"

"No, I've thought of that, Aunt Jennie, and I don't believe it's the
way. A letter couldn't get to the bottom of the matter. You see, we want
to find out something about this man, and why he isn't paying, and
whether there is reason to think he can and will pay. Besides, I think
he needs a talking to on general principles."

"Well--but how are you going to do it, my dear?"

"Play a Fabian game. Wait!--be stealthy and wait! If he doesn't come out
of hiding to-night, I'll return for him to-morrow. I'll keep on coming,
night after night, night after night, n--Some one's knocking--".