"I don't know what it is."

"I'm not quite sure that I do. What is his New Gospel, Don?"

"That he alone can explain, Aunt. But it is going to stir up the world.
Paul is a genius--the only true genius of the age."

"Quite agree. I don't know that it isn't just as well. Don't you think
it may be just as well, dear?"

"I don't know," said Flamby, looking up slowly.

"I'm not quite sure that I do. Has your furniture arrived, dear?"

"Not yet, Aunt," replied Don on Flamby's behalf. "Most of it will have
to be purchased, and I thought you might give Flamby some sort of a
notion what to buy. Then we could trot off up town and get things."

"How delightful. I should have loved to join you, but I have promised to
lunch with Mrs. Pooney, and I couldn't disappoint her. She is downstairs
now, cooking a chicken. Someone sent her a chicken. Wasn't that nice?"

"Very decent of someone. I hope it is a tender chicken. And now, Aunt,
could Flamby take a peep at your place and perhaps make a sort of list.
Some of the things we could get to-day, and perhaps to-morrow you could
run along with her and complete the purchases."

"I should love it. Dear me!" Into the round blue eyes came suddenly
tears of laughter, and Mrs. Chumley became convulsed with silent
merriment, glancing helplessly from Don to Flamby. This merriment was
contagious; so that ere long all three were behaving quite ridiculously.

"Whatever is the Aunt laughing about?" inquired Don.

"Dear me!" gasped Mrs. Chumley, struggling to regain composure--"poor
child! Of course you have nowhere to sleep to-night. How ridiculous--a
squirrel without a nest." She hugged Flamby affectionately. "You will
stay with me, dear, won't you?"

"Oh, but really--may I? Have you room?"

"Certainly, dear. Friends often stay with me. I have a queer thing in my
sitting-room that looks like a bookcase, but is really a bed. You can
stay with me just as long as you like. There is no hurry to get your own
place ready, is there? There isn't any hurry, is there, Don?"

"No particular hurry, Aunt. But, naturally, Flamby will get things in
order as soon as possible."

"Thank you so much," said Flamby, faint traces of mist disturbing her
sight.

"Not at all, dear. I'm glad. The longer you stay the gladder I shall be.
What an absurd word--gladder. There is something wrong about it, surely,
Don?"

"More glad would perhaps be preferable, Aunt."

Mrs. Chumley immediately succumbed to sile