"Ah, a little scratch," he remarked airily. "Ah, sorry, really, very.
But it can soon be remedied. A little dob of clay, now."
"Let me fix it myself," said Hinpoha firmly, with difficulty keeping her exasperation under the surface, and without more ado seized her mutilated treasure from his hands.
"Ah, yes, of course," murmured Monty, and wandered on to the next table.
By the time the day was over Cousin Monty was about as popular as a hornet. "How long is he going to stay?" the girls asked each other in comical dismay. "A week? Oh, my gracious, how can we ever stand him around here a week?"
"Is he going along with us on the canoe trip?" Katherine asked Miss Judy as she helped her check over supplies for the expedition.
"He is that," replied Miss Judy. "He's going along to pester us just as he has been doing—probably worse, because he's had a night to think up a whole lot more fool questions to ask than he could think of yesterday."
And it was even so. Monty, notebook in hand, insisted upon knowing the why and wherefore of every move each one of the girls made until they began to flee at his approach. "Why are you tying up your ponchos that way? That isn't the way. Now if you will just let me show you—"
"Why you are putting that stout girl"—indicating Bengal—"in the stern of the canoe? You want the weight up front—that's the newest way."
"Now Uncle, just let me show you a trick or two about stowing away those supplies. You're not in the least scientific about it."
Thus he buzzed about, inquisitive and officious.