"You wrong him, Mr. Unwiseman," said Mollie. "He isn't paid for opening the front door. He just does it for fun."
"Oh! well, that's different," said the proud visitor. "If he does it just for fun I can afford to recognize him—though I must say I can't see what fun there is in opening front doors. How do you do, Whistlebinkie?"
"Pretwell," said Whistlebinkie. "How are you?"
"I hardly know what to say," replied the Unwiseman, scratching his head thoughtfully. "You see, Miss Mollie, when I got up my conversation for this call I didn't calculate on Whistlebinkie here. I haven't any remarks prepared for him. Of course, I could tell him that I am in excellent health, and that I think possibly it will rain before the year is over; but, after all, that's very ordinary kind of talk, and we'll have to keep changing the subject all the time to get back to my original conversation with you."
"Whistlebinkie needn't talk at all," said Mollie. "He can just whistle."
"Or maybe I could go outside and put in a few remarks for him here and there, and begin the call all over again," suggested the Unwiseman.
"Oh, no! Dodoothat," began Whistlebinkie.
"Now what does he mean by dodoothat?" asked the visitor, with a puzzled look on his face.
"He means don't do that—don't you, Whistlebinkie? Answer plainly through your mouth and let your hat rest," said Mollie.
"That—swat—I—meant," said Whistlebinkie, as plainly as he could. "He—needn't—botherto—talk—toomee—to me, I mean. I only—want—to—listen—towhim."