But Clifford just keeps on tryin' to work his elbows clear and looks dazed. "I don't know," says Cliffy, "truly I don't, Cousin Robert. They've been following me for an hour, and I've had an awful time."
"Maybe you've been makin' a noise like a wienerwurst," says I.
About that time Aunt Julie comes paddin' out. "Did I hear some one say Clifford?" says she.
"You did," says Mr. Robert. "There he is, the one with the ear muffs. I haven't found out who the others are yet."
"Phe-e-e-ew!" says she, takin' one sniff, and with that she grabs out her scent bottle and runs back, slammin' the door behind her.
"Cliffy," says I, "you don't seem to be makin' much of a hit with your Ellis Island bunch."
"What I want to know," says Mr. Robert, "is what this is all about!"
But Clifford didn't have the key. All he knew was that when he started to leave the subway train they had tagged after, and that since then he hadn't been able to shake 'em. Once he'd jumped on a Broadway car; but they'd all piled in too, and the conductor had made him shell out a nickel for every last one. Another time he'd dodged through one of them revolvin' doors into a hotel, and four of 'em had got wedged in so tight it took half a dozen porters to get 'em out; but the house detective had spotted Clifford for the head of the procession and held him by the collar until he could chuck him out to join his friends.
"It was simply awful!" says he, throwin' up his hands.
And then I notices the rattan cane. After that it was all clear. "Where'd you cop the stick, Cliffy?" says I.