“Don’t you believe a word of it!” exclaimed Chap. “It isn’t the big, savage hen-hawks that give the most trouble and are hard to get rid of. It’s the potato-bugs. That’s where your iron heel comes in. If you don’t scrunch this thing in the egg it will get ahead of you. You may just rest certain of that.”
“Well, let’s scrunch,” said Phil. “How would you begin?”
“I can’t say just exactly what I’d do first,” answered Chap; “but suppose we divide things. I’ll take Susan and you take Joel, and then I’ll take the man with the black straw hat, and you can have Mr. Welford.”
“You are choosing the heavy end of the load,” said Phil.
“That suits me,” said Chap. “I like to give a good lift when I get well under a thing with some heft in it.”
Phil did not fancy the idea of his friend undertaking to reduce Susan to proper submission; but, as Chap seemed fairly aching for the job, and as he had been such a frequent visitor to the house, and, being a very social boy, was really more intimate with Susan than Philip himself was, the latter finally consented that Chap’s arrangements should be carried out.
“But don’t come down too heavy at first,” said Phil. “I don’t want her annihilated—only reformed.”
“All right!” said Chap. “I’ll start in as mild as a pot of bonny-clabber.”
“Chap,” cried Phil, as a happy idea struck him, “you come here and stay for a few days. Your folks will let you, I know.”
“Boy,” cried Chap, springing to his feet, “you are beginning to show signs of life! I’ll go and ask them.”