So I follows into the big kitchen, where I finds the disabled Romeo propped up in a chair, with the whole push of 'em, includin' the fat cook, a couple of maids, and the butler, all tryin' to bandage him in diff'rent spots. He's a big, gawky-lookin' young gent, with a thick crop of pale hair and a solemn, serious look on his face, like he was one of the kind that took everything hard. As soon as Marjorie gives 'em my hint about goin' back to Father there's a gen'ral protest.
"Oh, I can't do it!" says Edna.
"He would notice at once how nervous I am," groans Mrs. Pulsifer.
"But you don't want him walking out here, do you?" demands Marjorie.
That settled 'em. They bunched together panicky and started back for the lib'ry.
"I'll stay and attend to the getaway," says I. "Nobody'll miss me."
"Thank you," says Gilkey; "but I'm not sure I wish to go away. I came to see Edna, you know."
"So I hear," says I. "Unique idea of yours too, rollin' in the hotbeds first."
"I—I was only trying to avoid meeting Mr. Pulsifer," says he; "exploring a bit, you see. I could hear voices in the dining-room; but I couldn't quite look in. There was a little shed out there, though, and by climbing on that I could get a view. That was how I lost my balance."
"Before you go callin' again," says I, "you ought to practice roostin' in the dark. Say, the old man must have thrown quite a scare into you last time."