"He doesn't get his manners from the Germans," snapped Elsa.
"Never mind! I've gotten the only home life I've known in eight years from them," returned Roger. He and Mamma Wolf exchanged an affectionate glance.
"Pass the biscuits, Elsa," said Papa Wolf.
"Going anywhere to-night, Elsa?" asked Ernest.
"Yes, we have choir practice every night from now to Christmas."
"The carols are beautiful!" exclaimed Mamma Wolf. "I heard them last night when I stopped by the church for Elsa. Ernest, pass your papa the preserves and put the cake where he can reach it. It's fresh, Papa, never fear. I only finished frosting it as you came in." Mamma Wolf looked at her husband a little anxiously.
"That Smithsonian man telephoned you again this afternoon, Ernest," said Elsa. "He wanted to call this evening and I told him to come along."
"I wonder what he wants," mused Roger. "He's been hanging round for a long time."
"Pass the biscuits, Ernest," from Papa Wolf. "The cake is very bad, Mamma."
"Oh, Papa, is it? And I took such trouble!" The distress in the gentle voice made Roger scowl.