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Neil Chase bowed impressively to the group on the porch. "I should much prefer to stay here," said he gallantly, "but business reasons impel me to seek that inferno out yonder. What Jarve finds interesting in that sort of thing is beyond me."
Would an eighteen by twenty-four wall-tent of the heaviest duck be about right?" "Eighteen by twenty-four! Why, that's how big would that be?" "About the size of this dining-room. I could get an eighteen by thirty-four " Josephine interrupted him with a burst of delighted laughter. "You might get Sally a circus tent," she cried. "As big as this dining-room! Why, Jarve "
Jarvis, within the door, removed his goggles and blinked approvingly at the fine colonial features of the wood-work, the lines of the stairway, and the proportions of the fireplace. "Anybody can see those two are loaded," complained Alec in Max's ear, as they brought up the rear of the procession. "Trust Jarve Burnside to back up Sally every time, and Josephine to join 'em.
Max got maddest when he ran onto a big lump of cayenne in his oatmeal, but Joanna gave him another dish right away and another cup of coffee. She's awfully soft over old Max. The best lining I did was the way I fooled Jarve on a letter from you. I knew he had had one from you sometime in March, so I looked in his coat-pocket while he was up in the timber lot with a sweater on.
All these factors combined to help Jarvis's suggestion. He approached his sister as she sat, rosy cheeked and laughing, on the lowest stair, and stood before her. "That wasn't so bad," he said, approvingly. "You and Jarve had better get out a copyright on that you worked in some pretty fancy steps. Got your skates on to-night, haven't you?" Sally thrust forward a small, white-shod foot.
Well, we can't all grow strawberries and lie round on our backs reading hydraulics. Some of us have to do the in-door jobs. Of course those are useless mere folly. All the really sensible chaps are looking after the colour of their skins!" "Hello, Jarve! This you?" Over the telephone Jarvis Burnside recognized Max Lane's voice, eager and cheerful.
"I'd rather enjoy seeing the mess Ferry and Jarve get into with a corps of bootblacks to make hay for them. They'll 'make hay, all right, mark my word." "Each of us girls is going to drive one load down to the barn," called Sally gayly, from the porch.
"Jarve," Max sat down on the kitchen step "do you seriously think a fellow could make a living off this land taking into account all the squash-bugs and fruit-tree pests and tomato-grubs and every other thing that I've always understood makes the life of the farmer miserable?"
See here " he rose upright from having stooped over certain newly upspringing shoots, and favoured his sister with a sharp glance. "What's the matter with you and Don hitting it off? That would leave Jarve to Janet, and make a mighty nice combination of us eh? Judging by appearances Don wouldn't object a bit. I say where are you going?" "Didn't you hear the breakfast-bell?"
All right, bluff away and much good may it do you! I'd sell it to Jarve Burnside before I'd sell it to you, but I Hello, where are you going?" He had almost run into Jarvis, hastily emerging from the kitchen door with a smoking jack-o'-lantern, the declining candle of which had made of it both a wreck and the source of a horrible odour.
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