But remember, I shall expect the Greeks
to return bearing gifts."

Holmes saluted. "Right you are, my hearty. Well, ladies, the chariot
awaits without."

In spite of their protests, Val at last got rid of them. Since he had a
project of his own, he was only too glad to see the last of his
oversolicitous family for awhile.

Val had never been able to understand why broken ribs or a fractured
collar-bone should chain one to the bed. And since he had recovered from
his wrenched back he was eager to be up and around. In private, with the
protesting assistance of Sam Two, he had made a pilgrimage across the
room and back. And now it was his full intention to be seated on the
terrace when the family came home.

It was Lucy of all people who aided fortune to give him his opportunity.

"Mistuh Val," she announced from the doorway as the sound of the car
pulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party,
"dem lights is out agin."

"Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playing
games?" he asked.

"Dis heah no-'count!" She dragged out of hiding from behind her
voluminous skirts her second son, a chocolate-brown infant who rejoiced
in the name of Gustavus Adolphus and was generally called "Doff." At
that moment he was sobbing noisily and eyeing Val as if the boy were the
Grand High Executioner of Tartary. "Yo'all tell Mistuh Val whats yo' bin
a-doin'!" commanded his mother, emphasizing her order with a shake.

"Ain't done nothin'," wailed Doff. "Sam, he give me de penny an' say,
'Le's hab fun.' Den Ah puts de penny in de lil' hole an' den Mammy cotch
me."

"Doff seems to be the victim, Lucy," Val observed. "Where's Sam?"

"Ah don' know. But I'se a-goin' to fin' out!" she stated with ominous
determination. "How's Ah a-goin' to git mah ironin' done when dere ain't
no heat fo' de iron? Ah asks yo' dat!"

"There are some fuses in the pantry and Jeems will put one in for you,"
Val promised.

With a sniff Lucy withdrew, her fingers still hooked in the collar of
her tearful son. Jeems glanced at Val as he went by the boy's cot. And
Val didn't care for what he read into that glance. Had the swamper by
any foul chance come to suspect Val's little plan?

But it all turned out just as he had hoped. Val made that most momentous
trip in four easy stages, resting on the big chair where Rupert had
spent so many hours, on the bench by the window, in the first of the
deck-chairs by the si