“Jews-harps—” said Clover thoughtfully, “jews-harps for three cabs—that’ll make—let me see—that’ll make—” he hesitated.
“Oh, the driver will make the change,” said Burnett impatiently. “Come on. If we’re going to have the cabs and jews-harps it’s time to get out and take the stump in the good cause.”
“Where’s my ear-trumpet?” said Aunt Mary, blankly,—“it’s been left somewhere.”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Mitchell. “It’s here! I’m holding it for you. It’s much easier holding it than picking it up. It seems so slippery to-night.”
“I’m not going out to get the cabs,” said Clover. “I thought of the idea and someone else must work it out. I’m opposed to working after time and I call time at midnight.”
Mitchell rose with a depressed air.
“I’ll go,” he said. “I feel the need of a walk. When I feel the need of anything I always take it and I’ve needed and taken so freely to-night that I need to take a walk to—”
“I don’t think it funny to talk that way,” said Burnett a little heatedly. “If you want to get the cabs why get the cabs. I’m going to get them, too, and I reckon we can get them combined just as easy as alone.”
“I will go with you,” said his friend solemnly. “I will accompany you because I feel the need—” He stopped and turned his hat over and over. “I know there’s a hole to put my head into,” he declared, “but I can’t just put my hand—I mean my head—on to—I mean, into—it.”
“Do you expect to find a brass hand pointing to it?” said Burnett testily. “Come on!”