When the folks who saw him tumble got to the edge and looked over, they saw a round, black thing sticking out of the mire, and, judging 'twas Lute's head, they asked him how he felt.

'I don't know yet,' sputters Lute, 'whether I'm drowned or smothered, but I'm somewheres betwixt and between.' That's me, Abbie, on that guardian business.

I'm still betwixt and between.

But before this day's over I'll be drowned or smothered, and I'll let you know which next time I write." After lunch he took a stroll in the Park and passed up and down the paths, thinking, thinking.

Returning, he found that Caroline and Stephen had gone for an auto ride with the Dunns and would not be home for dinner.