I let it go at that. But while he's away at the station the kitchen talk breaks loose. The cook and two maids calls for Aunt Mary, tells her what they think of a place that has canned spooks in the parlour, and starts for the trolley. Aunt Mary gets her bonnet on and has her trunks lugged down on the front porch. That's the kind of a reception we has for Miss Gertrude and her mother when they show up.
"Anything particular the matter?" whispers Pinckney to me, as he hands the guests out of the carriage.
"Nothin' much," says I. "Me and Snivens and the twins is left. The others have gone or are goin'."
"What is the matter?" says Miss Gertie.
"Everything," says Pinckney. "I've made a flat failure. Shorty, you bring in the twins and we'll end this thing right now."
Well, I rounds up Jack and Jill, and after they've hugged Miss Gertie until her travelin' dress is fixed for a week at the cleaners', Pinckney leads us all into the front room. The urns was there on the mantel; but the kids don't even give 'em a look.
"Come on, you young rascals!" says he, as desperate as if he was pleadin' guilty to blowin' up a safe. "Tell Miss Gertrude about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina."
"Oh," says Jack, "they're out in the flower bed."
"We fed 'em to the rose bushes," says Jill.
"We didn't like to lose 'em," says Jack; "but Pat needed the ashes."