“I've seen the old cat,” he cried in smothered wrath to Joel, rushing into his room.
Joel sat disconsolately on the edge of his bed, kicking off his heavy shoes, to replace with his evening ones.
“Have you?” said Joel grimly. “Well, isn't she a—” then he remembered Mamsie, and snapped his lips to.
“'A,'” exclaimed Tom, in smothered wrath, as he closed the door. “She isn't 'a' at all, Joe. She's 'the.'”
“Well, do be still,” cried Joel, putting on his best shoes nervously, “or you'll have me saying something. And she's visiting here; and Mamsie wouldn't like it. Don't, Tom,” he begged.
“I won't,” said Tom, with a monstrous effort, “but—oh dear me!” Then he rushed into his own room and banged about, getting his best clothes out.
“Shut the door,” roared Joel after him, “or you'll begin to fume, and I can't stand it, Tom; it will set me off.”
So Tom shut the door; and with all these precautions going on over the house, all the family in due time appeared at dinner, prepared as best they could be to bear the infliction of Mrs. Chatterton's return.
And after the conclusion of the meal, why, everybody tried to forget it as much as possible, and give themselves up to the grand affair of the evening.
And old Mr. King, who had been consumed with fear that it would have a disastrous effect on Polly and Jasper, the chief getters-up of the entertainment, came out of his fright nicely; for there they were, as bright and jolly as ever, and fully equal to any demands upon them. So he made up his mind that, after all, he could put up with Cousin Eunice a bit longer, and that the affair was to be an immense success and the very finest thing possible.