But Warble was not caught napping. In her efficient way, she had provided
two bassinets, two nurseries--in fact, she had really provided three of
everything, but the third wasn't needed, and she thriftily ordered it put
aside for the present and for the future.

Dr. Petticoat was enchanted.

He saw the children first, asleep in their downy nests, tucked in by the
skilled hands of the staff of trained nurses, and as he gazed on his
offspring, his little tucked and quilted Petticoats, he named them Guelph
and Ghibelline, after two of his illustrious ancestors and ran off at once
to put up their names at various select and inaccessible clubs.



CHAPTER XI


Petticoat had five hobbies. Ptomaines, his collection of pieplates, Warble,
his personal appearance and his Aunt Dressie.

The last was one of the old Cotton-Petticoats, and in her younger days
had been a flibbertigibbet. Was still, for that matter, but she flibbered
differently now.

She appeared unannounced, took up her favorite quarters in the N.N.W. wing,
and permeated the household.

Tall. Slender. Smart. Sport suits. Bobbed hair. Smoked cigars.