Marjorie," says I, "couldn't you get her to speed up the toilet motions
a bit and shoo her downstairs? Don't say who; but just hint that
someone wants to see her mighty special for a few moments. There's a
good girl!"

Marjorie giggles and shows her dimples. "I might try," says she.
"Suppose you wait in the library, where there's a nice log fire."

So it's me for an easy chair in the corner, where I can watch for the
entrance. Five minutes by the clock on the mantel, and nothing
happens. Ten minutes, and no Vee. Then I hears a smothered snicker
off to the left. I'd got my face all set for the cheerful greetin'
too, when I discovers two pairs of brown eyes inspectin' me roguish,
through the parted portières. And neither pair was any I'd ever seen
before.

"Huh!" thinks I. "Nice way to treat guests!" and I pretends not to
notice. I've picked up a magazine and am readin' the pictures
industrious, when there's more snickers. I scowls, fidgets around
some, and fin'lly takes another glance. The brown eyes are twinklin'
mischievous, all four of 'em.

"Well," says I, "what's the joke? Shoot it!"

At that into the room bounces a couple of girls, somewhere around ten
and twelve, I should judge; tall, long-legged kids, but cute lookin',
and genuine live wires, from their toes up. They're fairly wigglin'
with some kind of excitement.

"We know who you are!" singsongs one, pointin' the accusin' finger.