"You're barkin' up the wrong tree! Go on back to bed, mamma!"
"Why am I?" she demanded, crossly. "Why am I barkin' up the wrong
tree?"
"Because you are. There's nothin' in it."
"I'll bet you," she said, rising--"I'll bet you he goes to church
with her this morning. What you want to bet?"
"Go back to bed," he commanded. "I KNOW what I'm talkin' about;
there's nothin' in it, I tell you."
She shook her head perplexedly. "You think because--because Jim
was runnin' so much with her it wouldn't look right?"
"No. Nothin' to do with it."
"Then--do you know something about it that you ain't told me?"
"Yes, I do," he grunted. "Now go on. Maybe I can get a little sleep.
I ain't had any yet!"
"Well--" She went to the door, her expression downcast. "I thought
maybe--but--" She coughed prefatorily. "Oh, papa, something else
I wanted to tell you. I was talkin' to Roscoe over the 'phone last
night when the telegram came, so I forgot to tell you, but--well,
Sibyl wants to come over this afternoon. Roscoe says she has
something she wants to say to us. It'll be the first time she's been
out since she was able to sit up--and I reckon she wants to tell us
she's sorry for what happened.
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