For the five young Polydores bore down upon us en masse.
“Father and mother have gone away,” proclaimed Ptolemy, who was always spokesman for the quintette.
This intelligence was of no particular interest to us––not then, at least. We rarely saw father and mother Polydore, and they were apparently of no need to their offspring.
Ptolemy’s next announcement, however, was startling and effective in its dramatic intensity.
“We’ve come over to stay with you while they are away.”
I laughed; jocosely, I thought.
Silvia paid no heed to my forced hilarity, but ejaculated gaspingly:
“Why, what do you mean!”
“They have gone away somewhere,” enlightened our oracle. “They went to the train last night in a taxi. They have gone somewhere to find out something about some kind of aborigines.”