“He is queerly interesting, for he sits and looks at Cynthia in a meek, adoring way, while his big solemn blue eyes keep up a blinking that have made the kiddies—you know boys always feature peculiarities—dub him, ‘The Blink.’ As to other details, he’s insignificant-looking, with a shock of yellow hair that gives him an unkempt, Hunnish appearance, and a sharp, ferret-like nose with an inquisitive tip on it that is sunburned to a bright red. Imagine!
“Now for funny number one. The Blink—we all unconsciously call him that—and the make-believe lady—that’s the boys’ name for Cynthia—have monopolized the hammock on the veranda ever since the gentleman’s arrival. It has been annoying, for they—Well, they spoon, and it gets on one’s nerves, and after a while these lovers are the star performers on the stage.
“The other morning I caught Danny and Tony fooling with the hammock. They said they were fixing it so it wouldn’t slip down. That evening every one had disappeared but your lonesome and the lovers, who were in the hammock with arms intertwined, with the usual turtle-dove cooing.
“All at once I heard a queer sound, and looked in the direction from which it proceeded, to see two pairs of legs sweeping through the air with a wild, frantic clawing, while shrill cries and a swear-word informed me that the hammock had turned over, and that the pair of love-makers were standing on their heads. I tried not to laugh, but a wee little giggle slipped out, and then I flew to the rescue and turned down, or turned up, Cynthia’s skirts, and then gave a helping hand to The Blink, who rose to his feet with a wild, bewildered stare in his blinking eyes. Then I flew, for if I hadn’t, I should have collapsed with merriment, for, as it was, I was stuffing my handkerchief in my mouth to keep in my laughter.
“As I flew through the hall queer sounds arrested my flight, and there, on the floor, were those two kids, Danny and Tony, rolling about in exultant joy, while emitting squeals of delighted glee. And then I knew why they had been fooling with the hammock that morning. I was smothering with laughter, but grabbed each one by an ear and marched them to mother, with appropriate explanations, leaving her to administer the punishment they deserved. Naturally Cynthia blamed me, insisting that I had encouraged the boys in their mischief, and hasn’t spoken to me since.
“Funny number two. I have told you of Cynthia’s obsession for searching for the valuable thing. Well, evidently she has imparted her obsession to her lover, for we find him poking around into all sorts of out-of-the-way places, that annoys mother extremely. The other morning Mrs. Van Vorst sent me to the studio with a message for Cynthia. The door was open, and, to my amazement, I saw the lady in question hoisted up on a ladder,—The Blink was holding it,—poking about among the rafters of the attic.
“As I stood wondering what she was doing, I saw her suddenly duck her head, and then, to my stupefaction, the Make-believe Lady was perched up there on that ladder like a poll-parrot, for her head was as bare as a billiard-ball, while her hair that was, was swaying gracefully on a nail some distance above.
“Suddenly discovering her nudity, she made a frenzied grab, not at the suspended wig, but at her skirts, hurriedly throwing them over her head, as if to hide its bareness, and then made frantic attempts to unhitch the black hairy thing that wiggled and wobbled just out of reach of her arm. At this moment Mr. Buddie—patience was written in his drooping pose, as he clung to that ladder—raised his head. His face immediately became the hue of his nose, for, alas, Cynthia, in her hurried endeavor to cover her denuded poll, had raised not only her dress-skirt but her under-skirts, and two black-hosed legs, lean and lank, stood forth from beneath her short, beruffled skirt. I waited to see no more, but hastily made my exit, to explode my mirth in the depths of my pillow on the bed in my room.
“Funny number three. My bedroom was next to the mystery-room, and then comes Cynthia’s,—she and Janet room together. There is a door between, which is generally closed, unless it is very warm. The other evening we were just getting ready for bed, when I suddenly remembered something I wanted to tell Janet, so stepped to the door, which was open. The room was dimly lighted by a single candle, and Cynthia, who likes to undress in the dark, was on her knees by the bed, saying her prayers, while Janet sat near, taking off her shoes.
“As I turned away so as not to disturb Cynthia at her devotions, I suddenly spied a man’s face peering in the transom over the door. Before I could cry out, Cynthia arose, and, carelessly glancing up, saw the face. With a wild scream she seized one of Janet’s shoes lying on the floor, and sent it flying at the head peeping over the door.