MR. THORNTON IS WORRIED
Laughing heartily at the Chinese cook's queer talk, Billy and his chums followed Mrs. Thornton into the house.
"Now, Billy," said his aunt, "you make the boys feel at home. Show them to their rooms—you know, the two near yours—and I'll see what I can do for Sing Lee. I told him to make some crullers when I knew you were coming, as I remembered how fond you used to be of them."
"Used to be!" exclaimed Billy, with the accent on the first word. "I am yet, Aunt Kittie, and I guess these fellows are too; aren't you?"
"Well, I guess we can manage to eat a few," assented Frank.
"Same here," came from Andy.
"All right," went on Mrs. Thornton. "Now just make yourselves at home, Frank and Andy, and I'll see if I can find some 'pig grease' for my queer cook."
"He certainly is a star," commented Frank. "'No hab got—what can do?' That's the limit in talk."
"Oh, that isn't a marker to what he says sometimes," declared Billy. "But come on and I'll show you where you're going to bunk. You can unpack as soon as Archie brings in your trunks."
The boys found pleasant rooms assigned to them. The house was like a large bungalow, all on one floor, for sometimes strong winds—cyclones in fact—blew over that portion of Kansas, making high buildings dangerous. The eating and sleeping quarters were in one building, and the cooking was done in another, a covered way connecting the two structures.