Part 9 (1/2)

We crept stealthily into Mrs. Pirk's kitchen. It was pitch dark in there except for a little light through the keyhole of the sitting-room.

”Hus.h.!.+ Keep still!” Mrs. Pirk coughed suddenly and we all quaked.

”Now she will surely come!” Silence again. We were half-choked with laughter.

”I am going to clear my throat,” said I. ”Ahem!”

”Ahem!” I gave a very loud, strong one the second time.

A chair was hastily shoved aside in the sitting-room, the door opened, a sharp light fell on our three fantastic figures, and Mrs. Pirk stood in the doorway with her spectacles on her nose. I stepped forward.

”Good-pood day-pay!” Mrs. Pirk went like a flash to the fireplace and grabbed a broom-stick.

”Get out!” she cried. ”Out with you!”

So out of the door we ran, stumbling and tumbling over each other, Mrs.

Pirk after us with her uplifted broom, out into the moonlit street. Oh!

it was unspeakable fun to be chased out-of-doors that way by Mrs. Pirk!

Well--then we went on to the Macks'.

They were sitting alone in their big light sitting-room, as we went in.

Mrs. Mack was playing ”patience” and Mr. Mack sat by her side smoking his long pipe and pointing out with the end of it which card he thought she ought to take next.

We pressed close together around the door and curtsied.

”Why, see! Welcome to youth and joy!” said Mrs. Mack, rising. ”What nice young people these are to come to visit a pair of old folks like us!”

Mr. Mack came forward and pointed with the end of his pipe over our heads, saying:

”Up on the sofa with you! Up on the sofa with you, all three!”

So there we sat, as if we were distinguished guests, with the lamp s.h.i.+ning full upon us.

”I see you have a _tine_ with you,” said Mr. Mack, looking at the _tine_ I carried. ”Have you something to sell, perhaps? And where may these pretty little ladies be from?”

”I-pi sell-pell b.u.t.ter-putter,” said I.

”We are from the Land of Fantasy,” said Ma.s.sa, without attempting P-speech again.

”Why! They don't make b.u.t.ter in the Land of Fantasy, do they?” asked Mrs. Mack.

Just then the servant came in with an immense tray, and on it was something very different from Mrs. Berg's camphorated cookies, I a.s.sure you! I thought with grief of my mask mouth no bigger than a savings-bank slit.

”And now what about unmasking?” said Mr. Mack. ”That is, if these ladies from the Land of Fantasy are willing to liven up an evening for a couple of old people.”

Were _willing_! We took our masks off in a jiffy. But, would you believe it? Mr. Mack said he knew me the very minute we came in!