XVI
ONE Saturday morning in the spring, when the Professor was at work in the old house, he heard energetic footsteps running up the uncarpeted stairway. Louie’s voice called:
“Cher Papa, shall I disturb you too much?” St. Peter rose and opened to him. Louie was wearing his golf stockings, and a purple jacket with a fur collar.
“No, I’m not going golfing. I changed my mind, but didn’t have time to change my clothes. I want you to take a run out along the lake-shore with us. Rosie is going to lunch with some friends at the Country Club. We’ll have a drive with her, and then drop her there. It’s a glorious day.” Louie’s keen, interested eye ran about the shabby little room. He chuckled. “The old bear, he just likes his old den, doesn’t he? I can readily understand. Your children were born here. Not your daughters—your sons, your splendid Spanish-adventurer sons! I’m proud to be related to them, even by marriage. And your blanket, surely that’s a Spanish touch!” Louie pounced upon the purple blanket, threw it across his chest, and, moving aside the wire lady, studied himself in Augusta’s
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