“What for, Aunt Sarah?” Hal scented trouble.
“I’m going to see every mother’s son of ’em to-morrow morning, and find out what’s what.”
“But, Aunt Sarah, you promised me——”
She turned on him sharply.
“My promise was on condition that you should do something for yourself. And as near as I can make out you haven’t done a blessed thing. Chick, give me those names.”
Hal groaned in dismay. He knew, from long experience, the utter uselessness of making further protest.
“Well,” replied Chick, “there’s Maury an’ Steinman an’ Jarvis an’ O’Donnell, an’—an’——”
“How about Tom Hooper?” inquired Miss Halpert.
“Him an’ Jim Stone’s ag’inst us,” answered Chick.
“What for?”