“My Buzz,” I said to him softly.

“Great heavens!” he exclaimed, with terror in his eyes as he backed away from me.  “I haven’t had but one glass of draft beer, General.”

“It’s all right, Buzz,” answered my very wise Gouverneur Faulkner, in a voice of great soothing.  “This is just—­just Robert in a—­a—­”

“Not much Bobby, that,” answered my Buzz as he backed farther towards the door.  “I think I’ll step outside in the cool air.  I haven’t felt well all day.  I—­” and with which remark my good Buzz turned himself into the arms of the lovely Mademoiselle Sue entering the door.

“I’m tired of waiting out there in that car, Buzz, and—­” And again came an awful pause of terror.  But is it not that women have a wit that is very much more rapid than is that of men?  I think it is so.

“You know, I thought Bobby was a queer kind of man and he is a perfectly lovely girl,” she said as she came towards me with a laugh and her lovely arms outstretched.  “I read about two French girls who got into Germany in German uniforms, just last night in a magazine.  You are some kind of a French spy about those dreadful mules, aren’t you, Bobby dear?” And as she asked that question of me, my lovely Sue gave to me a kiss upon my lips that I valued with a great gratitude.

“Please make it that my Buzz also understands,” I pleaded to her within her arms.

“Brace up, Buzz, and be nice to Bobby, even if he is a girl.  Just when did you begin not to like girls, I’d like to know?” questioned my Sue of him with a great emphasis.

“You see why it is that I cannot go into that business of timber with you and be married to—­” I made a commencement to say to him.

“That will do, L’Aiglon,” interrupted my Buzz with a great haste and a glance in the direction of lovely Sue.  “Forget it!  It is an awful shame, for you were one nice youngster and—­”

“Be a sport, Buzz, and forgive her and—­love her again,” said my Gouverneur Faulkner with a laugh.  “That is, as much as Miss Susan will—­” But at this point my Uncle, the General Robert, caused an interruption in the conversation.

“What are you doing here, sir, when I left you to watch the side-steps of that French popinjay and the Whitworth woman?  Did you hear what all that powwow was about at her tea fight this afternoon?” he demanded of fine Buzz, with a great anxiety.  “There’s been hell to pay, since you left, Governor, and I think this French scoundrel and Jeff’s gang are preparing to put through some sort of a private steal if you jump the track on them.”

“Madam Pat has got ’em all up at the Club, plotting in a corner at the little dinner dance we got up when his High-and-Mightiness refused the rural expedition, as soon as they heard you were not to go, Governor,” said my Buzz with a great anxiety in his face.  “I’d like to see anybody put out Mrs. Pat’s light when she is once lit.”

“It’s all right, Buzz, and don’t worry.  Something has arrived to stop it all.  It’s up at the Mansion now and is man-sized,” answered my beloved Gouverneur Faulkner with a great soothing.