Uncle John had the paper at breakfast on Monday, and he gave an amused laugh as his eye caught the report of the Sizer party.

“This is a good one on you, Louise,” he exclaimed.  “You say that Miss Molly, ’looking more lovely than ever in her handsome new gown, greeted her guests with a roughish smile.’”

“A what?” demanded Louise, horrified.

“A ‘roughish’ smile.”

“Oh; that’s a mistake,” she said, glancing at the item.  “What I said was a ‘roguish’ smile; but there’s been a typographical error which Miss Briggs must have overlooked in reading the proof.”

“Nevertheless,” remarked Arthur, “the statement isn’t far wrong.  Everything was rough, including the smiles, as far as I noted that remarkable gathering.”

“But—­see here!” cried Patsy; “that’s a dreadful mistake.  That spoils all the nice things you said about the girl, Louise.  I hope the Sizers won’t notice it.”

But the Sizers did, and were frantic with rage over what they deemed was a deliberate insult to Molly.  Several young men who had come from distances to attend the birthday party had stayed over Sunday at the farmhouse, where the revelry still continued in a fitful way, due to vain attempts to relieve racking headaches by further libations.  Monday morning found the dissipated crew still the guests of the Sizers, and when big Bill slowly spelled out the assertion made by the Tribune that his sister had “a roughish smile” loud cries of indignation arose.  Molly first cried and then had hysterics and screamed vigorously; Bill swore vengeance on the Millville Tribune and all connected with it, while the guests gravely asserted it was “a low-down, measly trick” which the Sizers ought to resent.  They all began drinking again, to calm their feelings, and after the midday dinner Bill Sizer grabbed a huge cowhide whip and started to Millville to “lick the editor to a standstill.”  A wagonload of his guests accompanied him, and Molly pleaded with her brother not to hurt Mrs. Weldon.

“I won’t; but I’ll cowhide that fresh husband of hers,” declared Bill.  “He’s the editor—­the paper says so—­and he’s the one I’m after!”

CHAPTER XIII

BOB WEST INTERFERES

It was unfortunate that at that time Thursday Smith had gone up the electric line toward Royal, to inspect it.  In the office were Patsy, Hetty Hewitt—­who was making a drawing—­Arthur Weldon, engaged upon his books, and finally, seated in an easy-chair from which he silently watched them work, old Bob West, the hardware man.  Louise and Beth had driven over to the Junction to write up an accident, one of the trainmen having caught his hand in a coupling, between two freight cars.