f," replied Mr. Appel, drily.

Mr. Stott shrugged a shoulder and his tolerant look said plainly that,
after all, one should not expect too much of a man who had begun life as
a "breaker-boy."

"The squee-rrel or coyote or whatever it was," Mrs. Stott continued,
"went pitter-patter, pitter-patter--so!" She illustrated with her
finger-tips on the oil-cloth.

"Prob'ly a chipmunk," said Pinkey, prosaically.

"Are they dangerous, Mr. Fripp?" inquired Miss Gaskett.

"Not unless cornered or wounded," he replied, gravely.

This was a joke, obviously, so everybody laughed, which stimulated
Pinkey to further effort. When Mr. Hicks poured his cup so full that the
coffee ran over he remarked facetiously:

"It won't stack, cookie."

Coffee-pot in hand, Mr. Hicks drew himself up majestically and his eyes
withered Pinkey.

"I beg to be excused from such familiarity, and if you wish our pleasant
relations to continue you will not repeat it."

"I bet I won't josh _him_ again," Pinkey said, ruefully, when Mr. Hicks
returned to the kitchen in the manner of offended royalty.

"Cooks are sometimes very peculiar," observed Mr. Stott, buttering his
pancakes lavishly. "I remember that my mother--my mother, by the way,
Mr. Penrose, was a Sproat----"

"Shoat?" Old Mr. Penrose, who complained of a pounding in his ears, was
not hearing so well in the high altitude.

Mr. Appel and Pinkey tittered, which nettled Mr. Stott and he shouted:

"Sproat! An old Philadelphia family."

"Oh, yes," Mr. Penrose recollected. "I recall Amanda Sproat--she married
a stevedore. Your sister?"

Mr. Stott chose to ignore the inquiry, and said coldly:

"My father was in public life." He might have added that his father was
a policeman, and therefore his statement was no exaggeration.

Everybody felt that it served Mr. Penrose right for telling about the
stevedore when he was seized with a violent fit of coughing immediately
afterward. Wiping his streaming eyes, he looked from Wallie to Pinkey
and declared resentfully:

"This is the result of your reckless driving. The cork came out of my
cough syrup in the suitcase. The only way I can get relief from the
irritation is to apply my tongue to the puddle. I shall have to lick my
valise until I can have the prescription refilled in Prouty."

The culprits mumbled that they "were sorry," to which Mr. Penrose
replied disagreeably that that did not keep him from "coughing his head
off!"

Looking sympat