Dr. Petticoat was enchanted.
He saw the children first, asleep in their downy nests, tucked in by the skilled hands of the staff of trained nurses, and as he gazed on his offspring, his little tucked and quilted Petticoats, he named them Guelph and Ghibelline, after two of his illustrious ancestors and ran off at once to put up their names at various select and inaccessible clubs.
CHAPTER XI
Petticoat had five hobbies. Ptomaines, his collection of pieplates, Warble, his personal appearance and his Aunt Dressie.
The last was one of the old Cotton-Petticoats, and in her younger days had been a flibbertigibbet. Was still, for that matter, but she flibbered differently now.
She appeared unannounced, took up her favorite quarters in the N.N.W. wing, and permeated the household.
Tall. Slender. Smart. Sport suits. Bobbed hair. Smoked cigars.
About fifty-five, looked forty, acted thirty.