"No," chimed in the echo, "you never could! Guess, papa; just guess!"
As for the Little Woman, she leaned back in her chair and began laughing hysterically. This was alarming. I knew it could not be her brother who had just sailed for Japan, and I glanced about nervously, having in mind a composite vision of my Aunt Jane, who had once invaded our home with disastrous results, and an old college chum, who only visited me when in financial distress.
"Wh—where are—they?" I half whispered, regarding anxiously the portières.
"Here—up-stairs, down-stairs, everywhere!" gasped the Little Woman, while the Precious Ones continued to insist that I guess and keep on guessing without rest or sustenance till the crack of doom.
Then suddenly I grew quite stern.
"Tell me," I commanded, "what is the matter with you people, and stop this nonsense! Who is it that's here?"
The Little Woman became calm for a brief instant, and emitted a single word. "Thomas!"
I sank weakly into a chair. "Thomas?"
"Yes, Thomas! Thomas!" shrieked the Precious Ones, and then they, too, went off into a fit of ridiculous mirth, while recalling now the sudden transfiguration of the halls I knew they had spoken truly. The Little Woman was wiping her eyes.
"And Mr. Griffin, too," she said, calmly, as if that was quite a matter of course.