door. It was the Flopper. And then to his surprise, he found himself
being pushed unceremoniously from the porch and pulled excitedly behind
the trellis.

"What's the matter with you!" he demanded angrily. "Are you crazy!"

"T'ank de Lord youse have showed up!" gasped the Flopper. "Say, honest,
I can't do nothin' wid him--he's got me near bughouse."

"Who?"--Madison scowled irritably.

"De Patriarch, of course. He's noivous, an' gettin' worse all de time.
He won't eat an' he won't keep still. He wants Helena, an' he keeps
writin' her name on de slate--he's got me going fer fair."

"Well, I'm not Helena!" growled Madison. "Why doesn't she go to him?"

"Now wouldn't dat sting youse!" ejaculated the Flopper. "How's she goin'
to him when she ain't here?"

"Not here?" repeated Madison sharply. "Where is she?"

The Flopper looked down his nose.

"I dunno," said he.

Madison stared at him for a moment--then he reached out and caught the
Flopper's arm in a sudden and far from gentle grip.

"Out with it!" he snapped.