"Hang the Preble part!" says he. "He's dead years ago. What I want to know is, who else lives here?"
"Only her and Sister Martha and me," says I.
"Martha, eh?" says he. "Still alive, is she? Well, well! And Zenobia now, is she—er—a good deal like her sister?"
"About as much as Z is like M," says I. "She's a live one, Aunt Zenobia is, if that's what you're gettin' at."
"Thank you," says he. "That is it exactly. And I am glad to hear it. She used to be, as you put it, rather a live one; but I didn't quite know how——"
"Kyrle Ballard, is that you?" comes floatin' out from the front door. "If it is, and you wish to know anything more about Zenobia Hadley, I should advise you to come to headquarters. Torchy, bring in those sandwiches—and Mr. Ballard, if he cares to follow."
"There!" says I to Ballard. "You've got a sample. That's Zenobia. Are you comin' or goin'?"
Foolish question! He's leadin' the way up the steps.
"Zenobia," says he, holdin' out both hands, "I humbly apologize for following you in this impulsive fashion. I saw you at the theater, and——"
"If you hadn't done something of the kind," says she, "I shouldn't have been at all sure it was really you. You've changed so much!"