Bub deliberately closed the knife and put it in his pocket, tossing away the stick.
"Gals," he remarked, with another half glance at Mary Louise, "ain't ter my likin'; but FOUR BITS—"
He turned and walked away to where a wild rosebush clambered over one corner of the Lodge. Pushing away the thick, thorny branches with care, he thrust in his hand and drew out a bunch of keys.
"If it's jus' the same t' you, sir, I'd ruther ye'd snatch 'em from my hand," he suggested. "Then, if I'm blamed, I kin prove a alibi."
Mr. Conant was so irritated that he literally obeyed the boy's request and snatched the keys. Then he led the way to the front door.
"It's that thin, brass one," Bub hinted.
Mr. Conant opened the front door. The place was apparently in perfect order.
"Go and get Hannah and Irene, please," said Peter to Mary Louise, and soon they had all taken possession of the cosy Lodge, had opened the windows and aired it and selected their various bedrooms.
"It is simply delightful!" exclaimed Irene, who was again seated in her wheeled chair, "and, if Uncle Peter will build a little runway from the porch to the ground, as he did at home, I shall be able to go and come as I please."
Meantime Aunt Hannah—as even Mary Louise now called Mrs. Conant—ransacked the kitchen and cupboards to discover what supplies were in the house. There was a huge stock of canned goods, which Will Morrison had begged them to use freely, and the Conants had brought a big box of other groceries with them, which was speedily unpacked.