“I've just let mine go. You see we had a place—a sort of Vegetarian and Free Love Community proposition, but it didn't work out so we sold it.”
“And your husband?”
“Oh, he's on his own for a while. I'm deciding what to fly at next. I always ask nephew Bill's advice so as to know what not to do.”
“Forgot to mention it,” said Petticoat, strolling in, “but a few people are coming to-night to help me plan for my new Color Organ.”
“What's that?” asked Warble, gazing at Petticoat in azure-eyed adoration.
“Oh, Lord, don't you know anything? Tell her, Aunt Dressie!” and turning on his French heel, Petticoat walked delicately out of the room.
“Treat him rough, Warble, you're an awful fool,” commented the older woman. “Why, a Color Organ is that marvelous new invention that plays color instead of sound.”
“Color—instead of—sound—”
“Yes—now don't try to understand, for you can't possibly. Go and play with the children.”
“I won't. Tell me more about this thing.”