"Sh! he'll hear you," warned Marjory.
"Well, anyway, I'm frightened half to death. Oh would you mind passing all the wettest things? I hadn't thought about his clothes."
"Yes, I guess I'd better; he might want to wear 'em again."
"They're both here," announced Mabel, opening the kitchen door.
"You help Bettie stir the soup and the mashed potatoes," said Jean, whisking off her apron and tying it about Mabel's neck. "I'll go in and shake hands with them and then come back and dish up."
Jean found both guests looking decidedly ill at ease. Mr. Black stood by the parlour table absent-mindedly undressing a family of paper dolls. Mrs. Crane, pale and nervously clutching the curtain, seemed unable to move from the bedroom doorway.
"Oh!" said Jean, "I do believe Mabel forgot all about introducing you. We told her to be sure to remember, but she hasn't
