"Won't you come in?" urged Mrs. Vertrees, cordially, hearing the sound
of a cheerful voice out of the darkness beyond the approaching glare.
"Do! There's Mary now, and she--"
But Sibyl was half-way across the street. "No, thanks," she called.
"I hope she won't miss her piano!" And she ran into her own house
and plunged headlong upon a leather divan in the hall, holding her
handkerchief over her mouth.
The noise of her tumultuous entrance was evidently startling in the
quiet house, for upon the bang of the door there followed the crash
of a decanter, dropped upon the floor of the dining-room at the end
of the hall; and, after a rumble of indistinct profanity, Roscoe
came forth, holding a dripping napkin in his hand.
"What's your excitement?" he demanded. "What do you find to go
into hysterics over? Another death in the family?"
"Oh, it's funny!" she gasped. "Those old frost-bitten people! I guess
THEY'RE getting their come-uppance!" Lying prone, she elevated her
feet in the air, clapped her heels together repeatedly, in an ecstasy.
"Come through, come through!" said her husband, crossly. "What you
been up to?"
"Me?" she cried, dropping her feet and swinging around to face him.
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