Well, you could have blown me and Jonadab over with a cat's-paw. We went
on our beam ends, so's to speak. A relation of Peter T.'s; why, if he'd
been twice the panorama he was we'd have let him in when he said that.
Loud clothes, we figgered, must run in the family. We remembered how
Peter was dressed the first time we met him.

"You don't say!" says I. "Come right up and set down, Mr.--Mr.--"

"Montague," says the feller. "Booth Montague. Permit me to present my
card."

He drove into the hatches of his checkerboards and rummaged around, but
he didn't find nothing but holes, I jedge, because he looked dreadful
put out, and begged our pardons five or six times.

"Dear me!" says he. "This is embarassing. I've forgot my cardcase."

We told him never mind the card; any of Peter's folks was more'n
welcome. So he come up the steps and set down in a piazza chair like
King Edward perching on his throne. Then he hove out some remarks about
its being a nice morning, all in a condescending sort of way, as if
he usually attended to the weather himself, but had been sort of busy
lately, and had handed the job over to one of the crew. We told him all
about Peter, and Belle, and Ebenezer, and about Stumpton and Maudina.
He was a good deal interested, and asked consider'ble many questions.
Pretty soon we heard a carriage rattling up the road.

"Hello!" says I. "I guess that's Peter and the rest coming now."