"I'm away head of this pitty-pat game at the Merry-go-Round," Bunch
went on, "and it so happens that recently I peeled the wrapper off
my roll and swapped it for a country home for my sister and her
daughter. She's a young widow, my sister is, and one of the
loveliest little ladies that ever came over the hill. And she has
a daughter that's a regular plate of peaches and cream."
Still I sat in darkness, and he went on:
"Now, my sister won't move out there for a day or two, so
to-morrow, promptly on schedule time, you lead your domestic fleet
over the sandbars to that house and point with pride to its various
beauties--are you wise?"
"But, Great Scott, man! it's not mine!" I gasped.
"Roll a small pill and get together," admonished Bunch, with a
seraphic smile. "Can't you figure the trick to win? All you have
to do is to coax your gang out there and then break the painful
news to them that you've suddenly discovered the place is haunted
and that you're going to sell it and buy a better bandbox--getting
wise?"
"Bunch," I murmured, weakly, "you've saved my life, temporarily,
at least. Where is this palace?"
"Only forty minutes from the City Hall--any old City Hall," he
answered, "It's at Jiggersville, on the Sitfast & Chewsmoke R.R.,
eighteen miles from Anywhere, hot and cold sidewalks and no
mosquitoes in the winter. Here you are, full particulars," and
with this Bunch handed me a printed card which let me into all the
secrets of that haven of rest in the tall grass.
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