"Nor go into
details about your antique business? That Marie Antoinette
dressin'-table game of yours, for instance. You know there is such a
thing as floodin' the market with genuine Connecticut-made relics like
that."
Gets him white about the gills, this jab does.
"Puppy!" he hisses out. "Do you insinuate that--"
"Not me," says I. "I'm too polite. But when you unload duplicates of
the late Oliver Cromwell's writing-desk you ought to see that both
don't go to friends of Colonel Brassle. Messy old party, the Colonel,
and I understand he's tryin' to induce 'em to make trouble. Course,
you might explain all that to Auntie; but in her present state of
mind-- Eh? Must you be goin'? Any word to send up? Shall I tell her
this wilt-thou date is postponed to--"
"Bah!" says Clyde, bangin' the taxi door shut and signalin' the
chauffeur to get under way. I think I saw him shakin' his fist back at
me as he drives off. So rough of him!
Upstairs I finds Auntie all in a flutter and tryin' to hide it. Vee
looks at me inquirin' and anxious, but I chats on for a while just as
if nothing had happened. Somehow, I was enjoyin' watchin' Auntie
squirm. My mistake was in forgettin' that Vee was fidgety, too. No
sooner has Auntie left the room, to send Helma scoutin' down to the
front door, than I'm reminded.
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