at last. "Just like some folks' shiftlessness."

"They _asked_ it. They asked Mr. Evringham if that girl couldn't ride
Essex Maid while he was in the city!"

'Zekiel lifted his eyebrows politely. "Where are their remains to be
interred?" he inquired with concern.

"Well, not in _this_ family vault, you may be sure. He gave it to them
to-night for a fact." Mrs. Forbes smiled triumphantly. "'I didn't know
Eloise remembered her father,'" she mimicked. "I'll bet that got under
their skin!"

"Dear parent, you're excited," remarked Zeke.

She brought her reminiscent gaze back to rest upon her son. "Get your
coat quick, 'Zekiel. Here's the telegram. Take the car that passes the
park gate, and stop at the station. That's the nearest place."

Ezekiel obediently struggled into the coat hanging conveniently near.
"What does the telegram say?--'Run away, little girl, the ogre isn't
hungry'?"

"Not much! She's coming. He's sending for the brat."

"Poor brat! How did it happen?"

"Just some more of my lady's doings," answered Mrs. Forbes angrily. "Of
course she had to put in her oar and exasperate Mr. Evringham until he
did it to spite her."