CHAPTER XVI
THE WORM TURNS
"Beatrice," said Mrs. Mackenzie, "what day of the month is it?"
"The eighth."
"Why, no, it isn't," put in Mackenzie; "it's the ninth—isn't it, Rob?"
"Certainly—the ninth of August."
"Have it your own way," pouted Beatrice; "what do you suppose I care?"
"There's George across the river," observed Mrs. Mackenzie. "I wonder why he doesn't come over!"