"See, Cleena! Cleena Keegan! See what I have brought!"
The shout summoned a large woman to the door, who threw up her arms with the answering cry:—
"Faith, an' I thought you was lost! Whatever has kept you such gait, Miss Amy?"
"Oh! adventures. Truly, Cleena. Real, regular adventures. See my leaves? See this lad! He got them for me. He is Bonaparte Jimpson."
"An' a curious spalpeen that same," casting a suspicious glance over the youth's strange attire.
"I'm Bonaparte Lafayette Jimpson," he explained gravely and, to Amy's surprise, timidly.
"The mischief, you be! An' what's Napoleon Bonyparty's gineral's pleasure at Fairacres, the night?"
"Cleena, wait. I'll tell you. Yes, you will have time enough. The train isn't due till after six, and they'll be a half-hour longer getting home from the station. Sit you down, Goodsoul, just for one little bit of minute. The scrubbing must surely be done by now. Isn't it?"
"Humph! The scrubbin's never done in this dirty world. Well, an' what is it? Be quick with you!"