“Now, what are we going to do next?” Clover demanded as they finished the bouillon.

“Have a meat course, I suppose,” said Mitchell.

“I don’t mean that; I mean, what are we going to do next with Aunt Mary?”

“She hasn’t but two days more,” said Jack meditatively.  “Of course—­even if she was all chipper—­this storm has knocked any picnic endways.”

“I am not an ardent upholder of picnics, anyhow,” said Mitchell.  “They require a constant sitting down on the ground and getting up from the ground to which I find our respected aunt very far from being equal.  Burnett mentioned that we should go to the scene on a coach.  That also did not meet my approval.  Going anywhere on a coach requires a constant getting up on the coach and getting down from the coach to which I also consider the lady unequal.  The events of yesterday have left a deep impression on my mind.  I—­”

“Go on and carve,” interrupted Clover, “or else shove me the platter.  I’m hungry.”

“So’m I,” said a voice at the door.  A weak voice—­but one that showed decision in its tone.

They looked up and saw Burnett, dressed in a pink silk negligee with flowing sleeves.

“I’m ravenous,” he exclaimed explanatorily.  “I haven’t had anything since day before yesterday at breakfast.  I didn’t know I wanted anything till I smelt it,—­then I dressed and came down.”

“How sweet you look,” said Clover.  “The effect of your pajama cuffs and collar where one greedily expects curves and contour is lovely.  Where did you find that bath-robe?”

“In the bureau drawer,” said Burnett.  “It appeared to have been hastily shoved in there some time.  I would have thought that it was a woman’s something-or-other, only I found one of Jack’s cards in the pocket.”

They all began to laugh—­Clover and Mitchell more heartily than the owner of the card.

“Sit down,” said Mitchell finally with great cordiality.  “You may as well sit down while they mess you up some weak tea and wet toast.”

“Tea and toast?” cried the one in pink.  “I’m good for dinner. Um Gotteswillen, what do you suppose I came down for?”

“I wasn’t sure,” said his friend mildly; “you must admit yourself that your attire is misleading.  My book on social etiquette says nothing as to when it is correct to wear a pink silk robe over blue and white striped pajamas.  However, there’s no denying your presence, and what can’t be denied must be supplied, so what will you have?”

“Everything.”

Mitchell dived into the edibles generally and Burnett’s void was provided with fulfillment.

“We were talking about Aunt Mary,” Clover said presently.  “We were saying that neither you nor she would be up to a coach or down to a picnic for one while.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Burnett.  “I feel up to pretty nearly anything now that I can eat again.  Pass over the horseradish, will you?”