“Do you mean it, my dear?” he asked. “It was on your account——”
“Never mind me, Drew,” came back that musical voice. “It would be a shame to turn them away.”
“But—but——”
“There are no buts about it!” cried the voice sharply, almost angrily. “You have heard what I said! They may stop here.”
“All right—all right, if you say so. There’s nothing for them to eat, and so——”
“I’ll cook something, for you have corn meal in the house. Young men who ride wheels have appetites that enable them to eat anything.”
“All right—all right,” repeated the old man, vaguely.
“Let them put their bicycles under the shed back of the house.”
The old man came out, closing the door.
“It is my niece, young gentlemen,” he explained. “She is very peculiar, and—well, when she says anything, that settles it, so you’ll have to stay.”