"What a queer-looking person!" whispers Vee.
"Wait until you hear him spring some of his nutty conversation," says I.
By this time the bell buzzes again, and Helma shows in a dumpy little
woman with partly gray hair and Baldwin apple cheeks--evidently a
friend of Auntie's by the way they go to a clinch.
"Mrs. Mumford," says Vee.
"Auntie's donation to the party, eh?" says I. "Just listen to her coo!"
"S-s-sh!" says Vee, snickerin'.
That's what it was, though--cooin'. Seems to be her specialty, too,
for she goes bobbin' and bowin' around the room, makin' noises like a
turtle-dove on a top branch.
"O-o-o-oh, Mr. Ellins!" says she. "So glad to know you. O-o-o-oh!"
And she smiles and ducks her head and beams gushy on everyone in sight.
"How long can she keep that up on a stretch?" I asks Vee.
"Indefinitely," says Vee. "It's quite natural, you know. For, really,
she's an old dear, but a bit tiresome. If she goes she will knit or
crochet the whole blessed time, no matter what happens. She crocheted
all over Europe with us one summer. Fancy facing the Matterhorn and
counting stitches! But Mrs. Mumford did it."
"Then she'll be a great help on their cruise, I don't think," says I.
"Oh, but she will," says Vee.
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