“Well,” asked Ned, “did that fellow get mother to sign up? That’s the important question.”
“Do you think we would let her, after what we know about the fellow?” retorted Tavia, indignantly.
“I don’t see how you girls knew much about him,” chuckled Nat. “You simply did not like the cut of his jib, as the sailors say.”
“What did you do to stop them?” asked Joe Dale, round-eyed. “Walk right in and give him away?”
“That would have been melodramatic, wouldn’t it?” laughed Dorothy.
“But what did you do?” insisted Joe.
“Why,” said Tavia, “we climbed out of the window—and I ripped my skirt, of course!—and we ran around to the hall and sent the maid in to call Mrs. White out. Then we told her about Philo Marsh—the two-faced scamp! Why, to hear and see him in that library, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth!”
“Well, wouldn’t it?” grunted Nat.
“I guess the Major was suspicious, anyway,” chuckled Tavia, ignoring Master Nat. “And Mrs. White declared she would have to look over the ground personally before she could make any decision.”
“He was in an awful hurry,” said Dorothy.