"Great Heavens!" groaned Delcote. "And I came here to forget 'dead things'!"
"Your—your Butler said you'd had misfortunes," murmured Flame.
"Misfortunes?" rallied Delcote. "I should think I had! In a single year I've lost health,—money,—most everything I own in the world except my man and my dogs!"
"They're ... good dogs," testified Flame.
"And the Doctor's sent me here for six months," persisted Delcote, "before he'll even hear of my plunging into things again!"
"Six months is a—a good long time," said Flame. "If you'd turn the hems we could make yellow curtains for the parlor in no time at all!"
"M—Mother," said Flame. "... It's a long time since any dogs lived in the Rattle-Pane House."
"Rattle-Brain house?" bridled Delcote.
"Rattle-Pane House," corrected Flame.