“Wait!” says I.  “When I get to be a little older, and some bigger, and after I’ve made heaps and heaps of money, and have a big, black automobile——­”

“And a big, black mustache,” adds Peggy.

“No,” says I.  “Cut out the miracles.  Call it when I’m in business for myself.  Then, if somebody’ll only choke off Aunty long enough, I may—­well, some fine moonlight night I may tell her all about it.”

“Oh!” gasps Jane.  “Mayn’t we be there to hear you do it?”

“Not if I can bar you out,” says I.

“Please!” says Peggy.  “We would sit just as still and not——­ Oh, here’s Aunt Marjorie.  Aunty, what do you think?  Mr. Torchy’s been telling us a secret.”

“There, there, Peggy,” says Marjorie, “don’t be silly.  Torchy is waiting to see Baby.  Come!  He’s awake now.”

Yep, I had to do the inspection act, after all.  And I must say that most of these infant wonders look a good deal alike; only Ferdinand, Jr., has a cute way of tryin’ out his new tooth on your thumb.

Goin’ back towards the station I meets Ferdy, himself, trampin’ in lonesome from a long walk, and lookin’ mighty glum.

“Of all the gloom carriers!” says I.  “What was it let you in bad this time?”

“You ought to know,” says he.

“For why?” says I.

“Oh, fudge!” says he.  “I suppose you didn’t put me up to that silly business of changing neckties!”

“Chinked it, did you?” says I.  “But how?”

“If you must know,” says he, “I forgot to change back on my way home, and Marjorie’s still furious.  She simply won’t let me explain, refuses to listen to a word.  So what can I do?”

“A cinch!” says I.  “You got a pair of livin’ dictaphones in the house, ain’t you?  Work it off on Peggy and Jane as a secret, and you’ll have your defense on record inside of half an hour.  Cheer up, Ferdy.  Ishkabibble!”