his and
that about how you _bet_ he knew who it was! He said he could tell Noble
Dill in the dark any time by his cigarette smell, and, anyway, it wasn't
too dark so's he couldn't see his skimpy little shoulders, and anyway he
saw his face. And he said Noble didn't _hand_ him the umberella; he
stuck it all down over him like he was somep'n on fire he wanted to put
out; and before he could get out of it and throw it away this ole fat
man that it belonged to and was chasin' Noble, he ran up to grandpa from
behind and took hold of him, or somep'n, and they slipped, and got to
fussin' against each other; and then after a while they got up and
grandpa saw it was somebody he knew and told him for Heaven's sake why
didn't he take his ole umberella and go on home; and so he did, because
it was raining, and I guess he proba'ly had to give up; he couldn't
out-talk grandpa."

"No," said Uncle Joe. "He couldn't, whoever he was. But what happened
about Noble Dill?"

Florence paused to accumulate and explode a sneeze, then responded
pleasantly: "He said he was goin' to kill him. He said he often and
often wanted to, and now he _was_. That's the reason I guess Aunt Julia
wrote that note this morning."

"What note?" Aunt Carrie inquired. "You haven't told us of that."

"I was over there before noon," said Florence, "and Aunt Julia gave me a
quarter and said she'd write a note for me to take to Noble Dill's house
when he came home for lunch, and give it to him. She kind of slipped it
to me, because grandpa came in there, pokin' around, while she was just
finishin' writin' it. She didn't put any envelope on it even, and she
never said a single thing to _me_ about its bein' private or my not
readin' it if I wanted to, or anything."

"Of course you didn't," said Aunt Carrie. "You didn't, did you,
Florence?"

"Why, she didn't _say_ not to," Florence protested, surprised. "It
wasn't even in an envelope."

Mr. Joseph Atwater coughed. "I hardly think we ought to ask what the
note said, even if Florence was--well, indiscreet enough to read it."

"No," said his wife. "I hardly think so either. It didn't say anything
important anyhow, probably."

"It began, 'Dear Noble,'" said Florence promptly. "Dear Noble'; that's
the way it began. It said how grandpa was just all upset to think he'd
accepted an umberella from him when Noble didn't have another one for
himself like that, and grandpa was so embarrassed to think he'd let
Noble do so m