tled down here. I'll look him
up. I'll be glad to see the muddle-headed seraph again. I'll ask him to
come, too, so there will be you and he--and perhaps your sister will honor
me, and your mother, Mrs. Oldrieve?"

"Mother doesn't go out much nowadays," said Zora. "But Emmy will no doubt
be delighted to come."

"I have a surprise for you," said Sypher. "It's a brilliant idea--have had
it in my head for months--you must tell me what you think of it."

The entrance of Mrs. Oldrieve and Emmy put an end to further talk of an
intimate nature, and as Mrs. Oldrieve preferred the simple graces of
stereotyped conversation, the remainder of Sypher's visit was uneventful.
When he had taken his leave she remarked that he seemed to be a most
superior person.

"I'm so glad he has made a good impression on mother," said Zora
afterwards.

"Why?" asked Emmy.

"It's only natural that I should be glad."

"Oho!" said Emmy.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, dear."

"Look here, Emmy," said Zora, half laughing, half angry. "If you say or
think such a thing I'll--I'll slap you. Mr. Sypher and I are friends. He
hasn't the remotest idea of our being anything else. If he had, I would
never speak to him again as long as I live."

Emmy whistled a comedy air, and drummed on the window-pane.

"He's a very remarkable man," said Zora.

"A most superior person," mimicked Emmy.

"And I don't think it's very good taste in us to discuss him in this
manner."

"But, my dear," said Emmy, "it's you that are discussing him. I'm not. The
only remark I made about him was a quotation from mother."

"I'm going up to dress for dinner," said Zora.

She was just a little indignant. Only into Emmy's fluffy head could so
preposterous an idea have entered. Clem Sypher in love with her? If so, why
not Septimus Dix? The thing thus reduced itself to an absurdity. She
laughed to herself, half ashamed of having allowed Emmy to see that she
took her child's foolishness seriously, and came down to dinner serene and
indulgent.

CHAPTER VII

"Are you going to have your bath first, or your breakfast?" asked
Wiggleswick, putting his untidy gray head inside the sitting-room door.

Septimus ran his ivory rule nervously through his hair.

"I don't know. Which would you advise?"

"What?" bawled Wiggleswick.

Septimus repeated his remark in a louder voice.

"If I had to wash myself in cold water," said Wiggleswick contemptuously,
"I'd do it on an e