“My terms in such matters is various and sundry, to suit the taste,” said Mr. Gubb.
“Then I’ll hire you by the job,” said Miss Scroggs, “if your rates ain’t too high. Now, first off, I ain’t ever been married; I’m a maiden lady.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Philo Gubb, jotting this down on a sheet of paper.
“Not but what I could have been a wedded wife many’s the time,” said Miss Scroggs hastily, “but I says to myself, ‘Peace of mind, Petunia, peace of mind!’”
“Yes’m,” said Philo Gubb. “I’m a unmarried bachelor man myself.”
“Well, I’m surprised to hear you say it in a boasting tone,” said Miss Petunia gently. “You ought to be ashamed of it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Philo Gubb, “but you was conversationally speaking of some deteckative work—”
“And I’m leading right up to it all the time,” said Miss Scroggs. “Peace of mind is why I have remained single up to now, and peace of mind I have had, but I won’t have it much longer if this Anonymous Wiggle keeps on writing me letters.”
“Somebody named with that cognomen is writing letters to you like a Black Hand would?” asked Mr. Gubb eagerly.
“Cognomen or not,” said Miss Scroggs, “that’s what I call him or her or whoever it is. Snake would be a better name,” she added, “but I must say the thing looks more like a fish-worm. Now, here,” she said, opening her black hand-bag, “is letter Number One. Read it.”