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"I shall have to rend the turkey, instead of carve it," he said. "Rend it," acquiesced Flame. In the midst of the rending a dark frown appeared between Delcote's eyes. "These these guests that you were expecting ?" he questioned. "Oh, stop!" cried Flame. "Dreadful as I am I never never would have dreamed of inviting 'guests'!" "This 'guest' then," frowned Delcote. "Was he...?"
Glancing up from this innocent triumph, she encountered the eyes of the Master of the House fixed speculatively on the big turkey. "I'm afraid everything is very cold," she confided with distinctly formal regret. "Not for anything," laughed Delcote quite suddenly, "would I have kept you waiting if I had only known." Two spots of color glowed hotly in the girl's cheeks.
"If you'd turn the hems we could make yellow curtains for the parlor in no time at all!" "W we?" stammered Delcote. "M Mother," said Flame. "... It's a long time since any dogs lived in the Rattle-Pane House." "Rattle-Brain house?" bridled Delcote. "Rattle-Pane House," corrected Flame. A little bit worriedly Delcote returned to his seat.
Most especially at Christmas Time he travels for his misfortunes! He ..." "Mr. Delcote?" quickened Flame. "Mr. Delcote?" "All he says," persisted the old Butler. "All he says is 'Now Barret, that's me, 'Now Barret I trust your honor to see that the dogs ain't neglected just because it's Christmas.
With a little sharp catch of her breath Flame dashed to the window, and swung the sash upward! Where once had breathed the drab, dusty smell of frozen grass and mud quickened suddenly a curious metallic dampness like the smell of new pennies. "Mr. ... Delcote!" she called.
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