"Wesley is attending the State Bankers Convention right now," said Mr. Higgins.
Mrs. Higgins gave Jerry a meaningful look. "We're very fond of dear, sweet Wesley," she said.
Jerry was understandably relieved when it came time to depart.
As for the serenade, Gertrude was in fine voice. Her words were incomprehensible, but no more so than foreign opera. Captain Wully puffed through Indian Love Call and a pibroch or two on the pipes, ably assisted by Red Skeleton on the glockenspiel and Junior on the mouth-harp.
Princess Pocahauntus was impressed by Captain Wully's full dress. She fingered the flowing shoulder plaid, tsk-tsking over the fineness of such a blanket. And the silver buckles—only a big chief would possess such wealth.
Gertrude bristled, and Oscar, the werewolf, dashed up with a limp and furry trophy, which he laid at the princess' feet.
"What's that?" Heather gasped.