Hickory. Besides, there was some excuse for his bein' peeved, havin' a
pair of kids camp down on him this way. Course I was wise to the other
details. Didn't I take their 'phone message to Mr. Robert only the day
before, and send back the answer for 'em to come on?

Seems this was a case of a second cousin, or something like that, a
nutty college professor, who'd gone and left a will makin' Mr. Ellins a
guardian without so much as askin' by your leave. There was a Mrs.
Chandler; but she don't figure in the guardianship. The youngsters had
been in school somewhere near Boston; but, this bein' the holidays,
what do they do but turn up in New York and express a wild desire to
see dear old Guardy.

"Gee!" thinks I. "They don't know when they're well off."

For Old Hickory ain't got a lot of use for the average young person.
I've heard him express his sentiments on that point. "Impudent,
ill-mannered, selfish, spoiled young barbarians, the boys," says he,
"and the girls aren't much better,--silly, giggling young chatterboxes!"

And the way I has it framed up, this was rather a foxy move of the
young Chandlers, discoverin' their swell New York relations just as the
holiday season was openin'. So I don't figure that the situation calls
for any open-arm motions on my part. No, nothin' like that. I'm here
to give 'em their first touch of frost.

So about eleven-fifteen, as I glances across the brass rail and sees
this pair advancin' sort of uncertain, I'm all prepared to cause a drop
in the mercury. They wa'n't exactly the type I had in mind, though.
What I'd expected was a brace of high school cutups. But these two are