But the one elevator was half way up when we fetches the gate. Old Hickory puts his finger on the button and holds it there.
"They've stopped at the fourth," says I. "Now it'll be comin'— No; it's goin' all the way to the roof!"
There it stayed, too, although Old Hickory shoots some spicy commands up the elevator well.
"No use; he's been bought," says I. "What's the matter with the stairs? Only three flights."
"Good idea!" says Mr. Ellins; and up we starts.
He wouldn't break any stair-climbin' records in an amateur contest, though, and when he does puff on to the last landin' he's purple behind the ears and ain't got breath enough left to make any kind of speech. So I tackles another interview with Helma.
"No," says she; "Meesus not coom yet."
"Ah, ditch the perjury stuff, Helma," says I. "Didn't we just follow her in?"
"No coom yet," insists Helma in her wooden way.
That's all I can get out of her, too. It wasn't that she'd had orders to say Auntie wasn't at home, or didn't care to receive just then. Helma sticks to the simple statement that Auntie hasn't come back.