"The little red sweater and Tam that I
have on?--Would they be all right, do you think, for me to make a call in?
Not a formal call, of course,--just a--a neighborly greeting at the door?
It being Christmas Eve and everything!--And as long as I have to pass
right by the house anyway?--There is a lady at the Rattle-Pane House!
A--A--what Father would call a Lady Maiden!--Miss--"
"Oh not a real lady, I think," protested her Mother. "Not with all
those dogs. No real lady I think would have so many dogs.--It--It
isn't sanitary."
"Isn't--sanitary?" cried Flame. "Why Mother, they are the most
absolutely--perfectly sanitary dogs you ever saw in your life!" Into
her eager young voice an expression of ineffable dignity shot
suddenly. "Well--really, Mother," she said, "In whatever concerns men
or crocheting--I'm perfectly willing to take Father's advice or yours.
But after all, I'm eighteen," stiffened the young voice. "And-
when it
comes to dogs--I must use my own judgment!"
"And just what is the lady's name?" questioned her Mother a bit
weakly.
"Her name is 'Miss Flora'!" brightened Flame. "The Butler has just
gone to the Station to meet her! I heard him telephoning quite
frenziedly! I think she must have missed her train or something! It
seemed to make everybody very nervous! Maybe _she's_ nervous! Maybe
she's a nervous invalid! With a lost Lover somewhere! And all sorts of
pressed flowers!--Somebody ought to call anyway! Call right away, I
mean, before she gets any more nervous!--So many people's first
impressions of a place--I've heard--are spoiled for lack of some
perfectly silly little thing like a nutmeg grater or a hot water
bottle! And oh, Mother, it's been so long since any one lived in the
Rattle-Pane House! Not for years and years and years! Not dogs,
anyway! Not a lemon and white wolf hound! Not setters! Not spotty
dogs!-