“Patty, you’ll go to the lunatic asylum some day, if you let yourself talk such gibberish!”

“Listen to him, Baby mine, my flubsy-dubsy,—­my pinky-poppy-petal, listen to your dreadful Dads!  Isn’t he the—­”

“The what?” and Farnsworth strode across the room and took his wife and child both into his big bear-like embrace.

“The dearest, sweetest man in the world!” Patty said, laughing but nearly smothered in his arms.

“All right, you’re excused,” and he let them go.

Nurse Winnie came then and took Fleurette, and the two elder Farnsworths went downstairs together.

They heard voices on the wistaria porch, and soon saw that Azalea was entertaining two guests.

They were strangers, and not very attractive looking people.

“Shall we step out there?” Farnsworth asked.

“No,” decreed Patty; “let her alone.  It’s probably those people she picked up on the train coming here.  She has spoken of them to me.  Don’t let’s go out, or we may have to invite them to stay to dinner,—­and judging from this long distance view of them, I don’t care specially to do so.”

“No.  I don’t either; the man looks like a drummer and the woman like a—­”

“A chorus girl!” said Patty, after one more peep at the stranger.

Leaving Azalea to entertain her friends without interruption they went out on a porch on the other side of the house.  And soon Raymond Gale sauntered over from his home next door and joined them there.

“Some strong-arm, your Azalea guest,” he said, in the course of conversation.

“Yes,” agreed Patty, a little shortly.

“She was over in our gym, this afternoon, and she put up as fine an exhibition of stunts as I’ve seen in a long time.”

“What sort of stunts?” asked Bill.

“All sorts, from lariat or lasso work to handsprings and ground and lofty tumbling.  That girl’s been trained, I tell you!”

“Trained in a school?”

“No:  her work is more as if self-taught,—­or coached by a cowboy.  She hails from Arizona, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.  Here she is now; I hear you’re an athlete, Zaly.”

“Only so-so,” the girl replied, half-absently.

“Have your friends gone?” asked Patty.

“Yes.”

“I recognised them,” began young Gale:  “they were—­”

Azalea turned to him quickly.  “Don’t you say who they were!” she cried, emphatically.  “I don’t want you to!  Don’t you dare mention their names!  It’s a secret!”

“Oh, all right, I won’t.  Don’t take my head off!” Ray Gale laughed carelessly, and pretended to be afraid of the excited girl.

“Why, why, Zaly,” said Patty, “who can your friends be that you won’t tell their names?  I’m surprised!”

“Their names are—­are Mr. and Mrs. Brown,” said Azalea, with a defiant look at Raymond, who merely opened his eyes wide and said nothing.