"Of course I'll tell you, Mother," I replied.

"If there is anything to tell." The clam pie was on the table in the dining-room and Dorinda was seated majestically before it.

Lute was fidgeting in his chair.
"Here he is," he exclaimed, as I joined the pair at the table.

"Ros, how did you ever come to do it ?" His wife squelched him, as usual.

"If Roscoe's got anything to tell," she observed, with dignity, "he'll tell it without your help or anybody else's.