up and
entertain her if yuh want to--_I_ won't!"

They caught the idea and disrobed hastily, though the evening was
young. Irish blew out the lamp and dove under the blankets just as
voices came faintly from up the hill, so that when Chip rapped a
warning with his knuckles on the door, there was no sound within save
an artificial snore from the corner where lay Pink. Chip was not in
the habit of knocking before he entered, but he repeated the summons
with emphasis.

"Who's there-e?" drawled sleepily a voice--the voice of Weary.

"Oh, I do believe they've retired!" came, in a perturbed feminine
tone, to the listening ears of the Happy Family.

"Gone to bed?" cried Chip gravely.

"Hours ago," lied Andy fluently. "We're plumb wore out. What's
happened?"

"Oh, don't disturb the poor fellows! They're tired and need their
rest," came the perturbed tone again. After that the voices and the
footsteps went up the hill again, and the Happy Family breathed freer.
Incidentally, Pink stopped snoring and made a cigarette.

Going to bed at seven-thirty or thereabouts was not the custom of the
Happy Family, but they stayed under the covers and smoked and
discussed the situation. They dared not have a light, and the night
was longer than they had ever known a night to be, for it was late
before they slept. It was well that Miss Verbena Martin could not
overhear their talk, which was unchivalrous and unfriendly in the
extreme. The general opinion seemed to be that old maid improvers
would better stay at home where they might possibly be welcome, and
that when the Happy Family wanted improving they would let her know.
Cal Emmett said that he wouldn't mind, if they had only sent a young,
pretty one. Happy Jack prophesied plenty of trouble, and boasted that
she couldn't haul _him_ into no s'ciety. Slim declared again that by
golly, she wouldn't do no improving on _him_, and the others--Weary
and Irish and Pink and Jack Bates and Andy--discussed ways and means
and failed always to agree. When each one hoots derision at all plans
but his own, it is easy guessing what will be the result. In this
particular instance the result was voices raised in argument--voices
that reached Chip, grinning and listening on the porch of the White
House--and tardy slumber overtaking a disgruntled Happy Family on the
brink of violence.

It was not a particularly happy Family that woke to memory and a snowy
Sunday; woke late, because of the disturbing