But when he went to bed that night he once more gave vent to his feelings on the subject of his sister's guest.
"Jeff," said he, "if a girl has absolutely no brains in her head, what do you suppose occupies the cavity?"
"Give it up," returned Jeff, sleepily.
"I think it must be a substance of about the consistency of a marshmallow," mused Just, thoughtfully. "I detest marshmallows," he added, with some resentment.
"Oh, go to bed!" murmured Jeff.
CHAPTER VII
"Nobody at home, eh? Well, I'm sorry. I wanted to see somebody very much. And there's no one at the other house, either. I'm away so much I see altogether too little of these people, Mrs. Fields." Thus spoke Doctor Forester of the city--the old friend and family counselor of both Birches and Churchills.
His son Frederic--who had managed since his return from study abroad to see much more of the Birch household than his father--was watching the conversation on the door-step from his position in the driver's place on Doctor Forester's big automobile, which stood at the curb. It was a cool day in May, and a light breeze was blowing.
"I don't know but Miss Evelyn's in the house somewhere," admitted Mrs. Fields. "But I don't suppose you'd care to see her?"