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Clatworthy's truly delightful invitation to take tea with him on the morrow. She herself she regretted to say would be detained until late in the afternoon by some troublesome tradesmen who were fixing new window-sashes in the schoolroom.
"Is it worse tasted than sulphur-water?" asked Nandy, and with that a wicked thought came into his mind, for he still nursed a spite against all that he had suffered under Dr. Clatworthy's care. "If you can't get taken in at Merry-Garden," said he, "why don't you try Hi-jeen Villa, up the creek?" "What's that?" "It's it's another establishment," said Nandy. "Respectable? You'll excuse my askin' "
The young ladies should arrive, however, punctually at 3.30 p.m., in charge of Miss de la Porcheraie, her excellent French instructress: she herself would follow at 5 o'clock or thereabouts, and meanwhile she would leave her charges, in perfect confidence, to Dr. Clatworthy's polished hospitality. . . . Those were the words. My mother who was fond of telling the story had 'em by heart.
Clatworthy's advice; "for I do believe," she wound up, "the boy is sinking into a very low state of despondency." "And so should I be despondent," said the doctor, eyeing Nandy, "if I had that number of pimples and didn't know a sure way to cure them." "Fresh fruit don't seem to do no good," said Aunt Barbree, "though I've heard it confidently recommended."
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