“Lead him to it!” hastily directed Pierpont, who was beginning to get a certain amount of enjoyment out of the situation.  “But tell him he needn’t call again.”

“Give ’em here!” snapped Mrs. Pumpelly, grasping the documents.  “This is a little too much!  ‘Lulu’ this time.  Fictitious as usual.  Who’s Julius Aberthaw?  He says I caused a certain rug to be shaken in such place and manner that certain particles of dust passed therefrom into the public street or highway, to wit, East Seventy-third Street, contrary to Section Two Hundred and Fifty-three of Article Twelve of Chapter Twenty of the Municipal Ordinances.  Huh!”

“What’s the other one?” inquired her husband with a show of sympathy.

“For violating Section Fifteen of Article Two of Chapter Twenty, in that on May 7, 1920, I permitted a certain unmuzzled dog, to wit, a Pekingese brown spaniel dog, to be on a public highway, to wit, East Seventy-third Street in the City of New York.  But that was Randolph!”

“Was Randolph muzzled?” inquired Mr. Edgerton maliciously.

“Of course not!  He only weighs two pounds and a quarter!” protested Mrs. Pumpelly.

“He can bite all right, just the same!” interpolated Pierpont.

“But what shall I do?” wailed Mrs. Pumpelly, now thoroughly upset.

“Guess you’ll have to take your medicine, same’s other violators of the law,” commented her husband.

“I never heard of such ridiculous laws!”

“Ignorance of the law excuses no one!” murmured Wilfred.

“It don’t excuse a lawyer!” she snorted.  “I have an idea you don’t know much more about the law—­this kind of law, anyway—­than I do.  I bet it is against the law to go round a corner at more than four miles!  Do you want to bet me?”

“No, I don’t!” snapped Edgerton.  “What you want is a police-court lawyer—­if you’re goin’ in for this sort of thing.”

“My Lord!  What’s this now, Simmons?” she raved as the butler deprecatingly made his appearance again with another paper.

“I think, madam,” he answered soothingly, “that it’s a summons for allowing the house man to use the hose on the sidewalk after eight A.M.  Roony just brought it.”

“H’m!” remarked Mr. Pumpelly.  “Don’t lead him to it again!”

“But I wouldn’t have disturbed you if it hadn’t been for a young gentleman who ‘as called with another one regardin’ the window boxes.”

“What about window boxes?” moaned Mrs. Pumpelly.

“’E says,” explained Simmons, “’e ‘as a summons for you regardin’ the window boxes, but that if you’d care to speak to him perhaps the matter might be adjusted—­”

“Let’s see the summons!” exclaimed Wilfred, coming to life.

“‘To Edna Pumpelly,’” he read.

“They’re gettin’ more polite,” she commented ironically.

“’For violating Section Two Hundred and Fifty of Article Eighteen of Chapter Twenty-three in that you did place, keep and maintain upon a certain window sill of the premises now being occupied by you in the City of New York a window box for the cultivation or retention of flowers, shrubs, vines or other articles or things without the same being firmly protected by iron railings—­’”