for the week-end at about the same time, and intercepted Teddie at the railway-station. So, after discreetly depriving her of the gardener's knife and the brass-mounted Moorish pistol from the library mantel, with the assistance of three chocolate mousses and an incredibly complicated and sirup-drenched and maraschino-stippled and pineapple-flavored nut sundae not inappropriately designated on the menu-card as "The Hatchet-Burier," he succeeded in wheedling out of her the secret of her disguise, telephoned for the car, and brought her home with a slight bilious attack and a momentarily tempered spirit.
A year later, after condign punishment for having tied sunbonnets on the heads of the Florentine marble lions in the Sunken Garden, she revolted against the tyranny of French verbs and the chinless Mademoiselle Desjarlais by escaping from the study window to the leads of the conservatory, from which she climbed to the top of the chauffeurs' domicile above the garage, where she calmly mounted a chimney and ate salted pecans and refused to
