“This” was the towel.  The assistant took it mechanically.  The young lady did not wait to give further orders.  She rushed out of the room and shut the door.  Brown was alone with the wasps, and they were lively company.  When, at last, the battle was over, the last wasp was dead, the nest was a crumpled gray heap over in the corner, and the assistant’s brow was ornamented with four red and smarting punctures, which promised to shortly become picturesque and painful lumps.  Rubbing these absently with one hand, and bearing the towel in the other, he opened the door and stepped out into the adjoining room.

The two women were awaiting him.  He found them standing directly in front of him as he emerged.

“Have you—­have you killed them?” begged the younger of the pair.

“Be they all dead?” demanded the other.

Brown nodded solemnly.  “I guess so,” he said.  “They seem to be.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried the dark haired girl.  “I’m—­we—­are so much obliged to you.”

“If there’s any critters on earth,” declared the stout woman, “that I can’t stand, it’s wasps and hornets and such.  Mice, I don’t mind—­”

“I do,” interrupted her companion with emphasis.

“But when I walked into that room and seen that nest in the corner I was pretty nigh knocked over—­and,” she added, “it takes consider’ble to do that to me.”

The assistant looked at her.  “Yes,” he said, absently, “I should think it might.  That is, I mean—­I—­I beg your pardon.”

He paused and wiped his forehead with the towel.  The young lady burst into a peal of laughter, in which the stout woman joined.  The laugh was so infectious that even Brown was obliged to smile.

“I apologize,” he stammered.  “I didn’t mean that exactly as it sounded.  I’m not responsible mentally—­yet—­I guess.”

“I don’t wonder.”  It was the stout woman who answered.  The girl had turned away and was looking out the window; her shoulders shook.  “I shouldn’t think you would be.  Hauled in bodily, as you might say, and shut up in a room to fight wasps!  And by folks you never saw afore and don’t know from Adam!  You needn’t apologize.  I’d forgive you if you said somethin’ a good deal worse’n that.  I’m long past the age where I’m sensitive about my weight, thank goodness.”

“And we are so much obliged to you.”  The girl was facing him once more, and she was serious, though the corners of her mouth still twitched.  “The whole affair is perfectly ridiculous,” she said, “but Mrs. Bascom was frightened and so was I—­when I had time to realize it.  Thank you again.”

“You’re quite welcome, I’m sure.  No trouble at all.”

The assistant turned to go.  His brain was beginning to regain a little of its normal poise, and he was dimly conscious that he had been absent from duty quite long enough.

“Maybe you’d like to know who ’tis you’ve helped,” observed the stout woman.  “And, considerin’ that we’re likely to be next-door neighbors for a spell, I cal’late introductions are the proper thing.  My name’s Bascom.  I’m housekeeper for Miss Ruth Graham.  This is Miss Graham.”