Mr. Johnson began to wield the broom.
'Why did Josephine come out to the bam?' asked Duff patiently.
'I give a yell.'
'Yes, but . . .'
'She hadda go down and get these here.'
'What?' Duff clutched the banister. 'Where?'
'To my bmdder's.'
''And you .. . stayed in the bam while she was gone?'
'Sure,' said Mr. Johnson. 'I didn't have no pants.'
'She brought these back to you?'
'That's right.'
'You were marooned in the bam, without your . . .'
'I was nekkid,' said Mr. Johnson. 'Got a hole in my underwear, too.'
'Why didn't you tell me!'
'What do you care!' said Mr. Johnson, as close as he ever came to astonishment.
'It makes a difference,' fumed Duff. 'Don't you see?'
'What the hell difference does it make, so long as I got a pair of pants on?'
'What?'
'I say, what's the difference if I gotta hole,' shouted Mr. Johnson. 'It's spring, aint it? I'm gointa leave off my imderwear in another month!'
Duff stared at him.
The Indian took up the whiskbroom and began to brush the steps, muttering.
Duff went down and sat beside the window in the sitting room and fell into brooding silence.
Alice came tripping in, carrying the portable typewriter. He lifted an eyebrow. 'You wait,' she said grimly. She began to type.
Isabel came in sidewise, in her diffident manner. 'Oh, Mr. Duff,' she said, 'you are still here? How nice of you to wait.' Was this a touch of malice? 'Gertmde begs me
to ask you for dinner. Will you stay?'
Duff smiled. 'I should be very happy to stay,' he said. 'Thank you. Miss Gertrude has been very kind.'
But Isabel looked amdous. 'Alice ... I beg your pardon, my dear. Do I interrupt?' She put her claw on Alice's shoulder, and Alice turned her face, her fingers still. 'Alice, dear, has the doctor been here today?'
'Not since this morning.'
'Is he coming?'
'I don't know.'
'Innes worries me,' said Isabel. 'He does, really. Don't you think his manner is rather strange?'
'Mr. Whitlock has a nervous temperament,' suggested Duff.
'Yes,' said Isabel, 'yes, he has.'
'He thinks the house was entered last night,' said Duff. 'I wonder . . .'
Isabel said, 'Tramps are on the decrease, don't you find? My mother often used to feed them at the kitchen door.'
'Indeed?' Duff followed her willingly. 'Your mother was both generous and imafraid, then?'
But Isabel was like a bird. You thought you had salt on her tall and she swooped away. 'It does harm,' she said. 'Alice, dear, I think perhaps you are working too hard. The strain . . .'
Gertrude spoke from the arch. 'Alice, dear,' she echoed, 'Innes is asking for you. He says it is time for his medicine. He seems very restless. Poor Innes.'
'Oh, gosh,' said Alice. The pillbox was in her pocket. 'Ill be right up. In just a minute.'
'I wonder,' said Isabel, 'whether we ought to have Dr. Gunderson? Or perhaps a nurse? What do you think, Gertrude?'
'It doesn't seem necessary,' said Gertrude coldly.
Maud barged in behind her. 'Alice, Innes wants to know what the heck you did with his pills.'
'I have them,' said Alice. 'Fll be right there.' She began to type again.
The three sisters stood ia the room, oddly indecisive. Their presence irritated Alice.
'He can't have a pill, anyhow,' she said over her shoul-
