"You may," said Olive. "What gentleman is that, do you suppose?"
"I know him," said Locker, "and, fortunately, he is married. He is Mr. Easterfield."
"Here's papa! Here's papa!" shouted the two little girls as they ran out of the front door.
"And papa," said the oldest one, "we want you to tell us a story just as soon as you have brushed your hair! Mr. Rupert has been telling us stories, but yours are a great deal better."
"Yes," said the other little girl, "he makes all the children too good. They can't be good, you know, and there's no use trying. We told him so, but he doesn't mind."
There was story-telling after luncheon, but the papa did not tell them, and the children were sent away. It was Mrs. Easterfield who told the stories, and Mr. Tom was a most interested listener.
"Well," said he, when she had finished, "this seems to be a somewhat tangled state of affairs."
"It certainly is," she replied, "and I tangled them."
"And you expect me to straighten them?" he asked.
"Of course I do," she replied, "and I expect you to begin by sending Mr. Hemphill away. You know I could not do it, but I should think it would be easy for you."