"Basket chairs——!" he exploded, violently, but allowed himself to be led unresisting from the room.
William finished his bed-making with his usual frown of concentration, then, lying down, fell at once into the deep sleep of childish innocence.
But Cousin Mildred was lying awake, a blissful smile upon her lips. She, too, was now one of the elect, the chosen. Her rather deaf ears had caught the sound of supernatural thunder as her ghostly visitant departed, and she had beamed with ecstatic joy.
"Honk," she murmured, dreamily. "Honk, Yonk, Ponk."
William felt rather tired the next evening. Cousin Mildred had departed leaving him a handsome present of a large box of chocolates. William had consumed these with undue haste in view of possible maternal interference. His broken night was telling upon his spirits. He felt distinctly depressed and saw the world through jaundiced eyes. He sat in the shrubbery, his chin in his hand, staring moodily at the adoring mongrel, Jumble.
"It's a rotten world," he said, gloomily. "I've took a lot of trouble over her and she goes and makes me feel sick with chocolates."
Jumble wagged his tail, sympathetically.