“Nothing to tell!” said Tom in something rather like a growl.
“Have another cooky, and tell us all about it,” repeated his sister in a persuasive voice. And after awhile, when he had had some more cookies and another glass of lemonade, he told them, gradually.
“Well, I sent in my card, of course,” he began. “Asked for Miss Davis.”
“Of course!” said Winona; for her brother’s usual custom was to call up from the sidewalk, “I’m coming over to-night,” and then to walk unceremoniously in whenever he thought of it, that evening.
“I did that all right, thank goodness!” said Tom. “The maid kept me waiting about a year, with a copy of Snowbound, and a Gems from Shakespeare, and a pug-dog made out of plaster, to amuse me. The Davises never seem to sit around in their rooms and on their porches like other people. Just as I got to the point of thinking I’d better go back home Mrs. Davis walked in. I was so surprised at seeing her, instead of Elsie, that I couldn’t think of a blessed thing to say—so I fished up this!”
He jerked the tablets out of his pocket and threw them to Winona.
“Keep ’em away from me,” he said. “I never want to see the blessed things again. First thing I found was ‘Civil War.’ I’d picked out that for a start anyway—thought it would be nice and general, and we had it in History last term, so I knew a lot about it. You’d have thought that would have lasted awhile, wouldn’t you?”
“Seeing that the real thing lasted four years or so, I think it might have,” answered Billy.
“Not a bit of it!” said Tom mournfully. “Mrs. Davis turned out to have had a grand-uncle or something in it, and she said it was a painful subject. I don’t think she ever had a grand-uncle. I believe she didn’t know anything about it, and just invented the old fellow to get out of talking about it!”
“Mercy, what suspicions!” said Winona, laughing. “You certainly have nearly ruined your lovely disposition. Never mind, Tommy, I sympathize with you. What did you tackle next?”