"He's too nice looking to be a judgment," said I. "I like his taste in everything—including shirts, don't you?"
"Don't speak of them," commanded Phil.
We shut the drawers tightly, and going into the other cabin, did the same there.
"Anyhow, I saw 'C. Noble' on the sheets and blankets," I said thankfully. "There are some things that belong to us."
"It will end in our going home at once, I suppose," said Phil.
"However else it ends, it won't end like that, I promise you," I assured her. "I must have justice."
"But he must have his things. Oh, Nell, have you really got relatives in Rotterdam, or did you make that up to frighten the caretaker?"
"No; they exist. I never spoke of them to you, because I never thought of them until we were coming here, and then I was afraid if I did you'd think it the proper thing to implore the females—if any—to chaperon us. Besides, relations so often turn out bores. All I know about mine is, that mother told me father had relations in Holland—in Rotterdam. And if she and I hadn't stopped in England to take care of you and your father, perhaps we should have come here and met them long ago."
"Well, do let's look them up and get them to help. I won't say a word about chaperons."
"Perhaps it would be a good thing. That wicked old caretaker seemed to be struck with respectful awe by the name of Van Buren."