"And father is nearly worn out with her," continued Mrs. Whitney. "And now to come parading her attentions upon me, it"—
"Who—who?" Dicky, now that the excitement in Joel's room had died down, had lost his relish for it, and he now pranced into Mrs. Whitney's room. "Who, mamma?"
"Mrs. Chatterton," said Mrs. Whitney unguardedly. "She has disagreeably intruded herself upon me."
"Has she been in here?" asked Dick in astonishment.
"Yes; asking if she can sit with me," and Polly started at the look in the usually soft blue eyes.
"And you wouldn't let her?" asked Dick, stopping short and regarding his mother curiously.
"Of course not, Dicky," she made haste to say.
"Then I think you did very wrong," declared Dick flatly.
"Oh, Dick!" exclaimed Polly in consternation.
"And you don't act like my mother at all," said Dick, standing quite stiffly on his sturdy legs, and gazing at her with disapprobation. "Didn't Mrs. Chatterton save my life," he exploded, "when the real burglar was going for me? Say, didn't she?" he cried.