Sandy’s first effort seemed to please him, and, hitching his moleskin trousers up deliberately, he proceeded with some unction––
“Y’see, ther’ ain’t nothin’ like gettin’ a look around. Then you kind o’ know wher’ you are. You sure need to know wher’ you are ’fore you get busy proper. It’s most like everything else. If you get on the wrong trail at the start, it’s li’ble to lead you wher’ you don’t want to go. What I says is, hit the right trail at the start, then you got a chance o’ gettin’ thro’ right, which, I take it, is an elegant way o’ doin’ most things. Wal, havin’ located the right trail––”
“We’re talkin’ o’ Zip’s twins,” murmured Sunny gently.
“Sure, that’s where I’m gettin’ to––”
“By trail?” inquired Toby seriously.
“Say, you make me tired,” retorted Sandy angrily.
“Best quit the trail, then,” said Sunny.
“Go to blazes!” cried Sandy, and promptly relapsed into moody silence.
At that moment Bill turned from his contemplation of the house beyond the dumps and fixed his fierce eyes on Sunny’s grinning face.
“Here, you miser’ble hoboe,” he cried, “get right up out of that, and hump across to Zip’s shack. You’re doin’ enough gassin’ fer a female tattin’ bee. Your hot air makes me want to sweat. Now, them kiddies’ll need supper. You’ll jest ast Minky fer all you need, an’ I pay. An’ you’ll see things is fixed right for ’em.”