We smiled at him but Aunt Cal’s only response was a stiff inclination of the head. As she was about to sweep on, however, a light-footed gray form darted from behind the hedge, made a wild spring into the air and landed clinging on the fringe of Aunt Cal’s sash.
“That miserable cat!” cried the Captain, darting spryly through the gate. But Eve had the kitten first and was gently detaching her sharp little claws. The Captain’s apologies were almost abject.
“Oh, no damage, I think.” Aunt Cal, unbending a little, was smiling in spite of herself. “She seems a very lively kitten.”
“Madam, I assure you my life is quite dizzy with keeping up with her. After—er—my other one——. But you know how it is—these young things!” He smiled expansively upon Eve and me. “For all their wild ways, they do help to keep us young!”
To this outburst Aunt Cal’s only response was a murmured word that she must be getting on. But Eve and I lingered to watch Daisy June who was now half way up a telegraph pole. “Captain Trout,” asked Eve unexpectedly, “did you ever happen to know a man by the name of Bangs? Harry Bangs, I think he is—a barber or something?”
The Captain shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. I’ve met some queer barbers in different quarters of the globe but I don’t recall any by that name. Is the gentleman a friend of yours?”
“Oh, no,” returned Eve hastily. “Not at all. We—just heard of him. And no doubt that isn’t his real name anyway!”
“Sandy,” said Eve that afternoon. We were in our room supposed to be writing letters. But I had finished mine and Eve said she didn’t believe in making the Sabbath a day of work. “Sandy, I wish we could take just one more look for that Circe. I’m not half satisfied yet that she isn’t somewhere about.”
“I know,” I agreed, “I feel that way too. And if you can think of any plausible excuse to give Aunt Cal for our going out there again—you see, now that she knows about things, she’s pretty sure to keep here eye on us from now on.”
Eve nodded. “Don’t I know it! But I’ve been wondering if we couldn’t go out and make a call on that friend of hers in Old Beecham. Mrs. Viner, you know, the one who was sick. Don’t you think we might take her out—oh, some soup or something? Or just drop in on her to cheer her up?”