Right there I gets a new line on Clifford. He's one of these guys that throws a bluff at bein' modest; but when you scratch him deep you gets next to the fact that he's dead sure he's a genius and is anxious to prove it by the way he wears his clothes. There's a lot of that kind that shows themselves off every night at the fifty-cent table d'hôte places; but I never knew any of 'em ever came in from so far west as Bubble Creek.
Mr. Robert wa'n't on, though. He still freezes to the notion that Cousin Clifford's just a well-meanin', corn-fed innocent; so before he turns him loose again he gives him a lot of good advice about not gettin' tangled up with strangers. Cliffy smiles kind of condescendin' and tells Mr. Robert he needn't worry a bit.
With that off he goes; but every time the telephone rings that forenoon me and Mr. Robert gets nervous. We don't hear a word from him, though, and by three o'clock we're hopin' for the best.
Then Aunt Julie shows up. She's a large, elegant old girl, all got up in Persian lamb and a fur hat with seven kinds of sealin' wax fruit on it. She's just in from Palm Beach, and she's heard that Brother Henry's boy is here on a visit.
"He was such a cute little dear when he was a baby!" says she.
"He's changed," says Mr. Robert.
"Of course," says Aunt Julie. "I do want to see if he's grown up to look like Henry, as I said he would, or like his mother. Where is he now, Robert?"
"Heaven only knows!" says he. "It would suit me best if he was on his way back to Michigan."
"Why, Robert!" says Aunt Julie. "And Clifford the only cousin you have in the world!"
"One is quite enough," says he.