"Si, si Signorina!" answered the anxious young father, "he burn-a, burn-a all-a da time!"
"Reach me the aconite, boy dear; yes, that's it."
"But what about supper, Hermy?" queried Spike wistfully.
"Oh, well—finish laying the table; I'll be back as soon as ever I can, dear."
"Oh, Gee!" sighed Spike, as their footsteps died away down the stair, "she sure is keen on knowing how I met Geoff! And if she ever finds out—" Spike cowered down into a chair and clasping his head between his hands sat thus a long while, staring moodily at the floor, striving for a way out of the difficulty. He was yet wrestling with this knotty problem when he heard muffled knocks at the front door, which, being opened, disclosed the object of his thoughts.
"Why, Geoff," he cried gladly, "I thought you wasn't coming. Say, what you got there?" he enquired, for Ravenslee's arms were filled with sundry packages and parcels.
"Come and see!" said Ravenslee mysteriously. "Catch this one before I drop it!"
"Why—hello," said Spike, sniffing at the package in question as he led the way into the parlour, "it smells good! It sniffs like—Holy Gee, it's a roast turkey! And—oh, say, Geoff—she's a beaut!"
"Precisely what Mr. Pffeffenfifer assured me," said Ravenslee, depositing his other burdens on the table. "Mr. Pffeffenfifer is a man educated in eats, a food fancier, an artist of the appetite! Mr. Pffeffenfifer is fat and soulful! Mr. Pffeffenfifer nearly wept tears over the virtues of that bird—pledged his mortal soul for its tenderness, vowed by all the gods it had breast enough for twins! Mr. Pffeffenfifer seemed so passionately attached to that bird that I feared he meant to keep it to gloat over in selfish secrecy. But no—base coin seduced him, did the trick and—here it is. Also we have a loaf!" and from beneath one arm Ravenslee dropped a package that resolved itself into a Vienna roll. "Also, ham—"
"Hey, Geoff," said Spike in awe-struck tones, "are all these eats?"