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"Yah!" cried Battersea, derisively. "You're out of it. My mother white; but my father--" here he hesitated, and then resumed: "Yes, you're right. Dido; my father was a negro! A Seedee boy, who was a fireman on a P. and O. liner." Judith flew back to his side, pushing Patricia ahead to Elinor. "Oh, that was on the first night, sir," she hastened to explain. "It was put on his head when in the room where he fell, sir. The doctor, sir, says as it ain't safe to take it away yet.".

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She and Aunt Bettie had just come up the street from Aunt Bettie's house, and the Pollard cook was following them with a large basket, in which were packed things Aunt Bettie was contributing towards the entertainment of the distinguished citizen. Mr. Johnson is Alfred's nearest kinsman in Hillsboro, and, of course, he is to be their guest while he is in town. The girls looked at one another in shamed silence. The actual discovery of the deception was so much more disconcerting than they had foreseen. They seemed to visualize Doris Leighton as she tore those guilty fragments and hid them in the rubbish, and the sight sickened them. "Ju's got the idea from her last thriller that the Dutchman who used to live at Greycroft buried his treasure somewhere about the place," explained Patricia to Griffin. "I suppose she'll spend her time grubbing this summer." "Der noting wrong, missy," said Dido, eagerly. "I swear--".