"Humph!" she snorts indignant. "Then I wish you to know that your
visits are most unwelcome. Is that quite clear?"

"I get the outline," says I. "But, you see----"

"No qualifications, absolutely none!" says she. "Good afternoon, young
man. I shall not expect you to return."

"Oh, well, in that case," says I, sidlin' off, "why--I--I think I'll be
goin'."

It was a smear, that's all. I felt about as thick through as a
Saratoga chip, and not half so crisp. Encouragin' finish for an
afternoon call that I'd been bracin' myself up to for weeks, wa'n't it?
And from all I can gather from a couple of sketchy notes Vee gets about
the same line of advice handed her. So there was a debate between her
and Aunty. For I expect nobody can lay the law down flat to Vee
without strikin' a few sparks from them big gray eyes.

But of course Aunty wins out in the end. It's a cinch, with everything
on her side. Anyway, the next thing I knows about their plans is when
I finds their names in the sailin' list, bound for the Big Ditch, with
most everyone else that could get away. And I makes my discovery about
three hours after the boat has left.

But that was in January. And I expect it was a fine thing for Vee,
seein' the canal before it revised the geography, and dodgin' all kinds
of grip weather, and meetin' a lot of new people. And if it's worth
all that bother to Aunty just so anybody can forget a party no more