I don't believe Jimmy'll be offended?"

"Bogardus is their name," continued Leander. "Mr. and Mrs. Bogardus, from
New York. Jimmy's got it down in his hotel book and he's showing it to
everybody. Jimmy's reel childish about it. I tell him one swallow don't
make a summer."

Uncle John had come into the room and sat listening, while a yellow pallor
crept over his forehead and cheeks. He moved to get up once, and then sat
down again weakly.

"What's the matter, Uncle?" Aunt Polly eyed him sharply. "You been out
there chopping wood too long in this hot sun. What did I tell you?"

She cleared the decks for action. Paler and paler the old man grew. He was
not able to withstand her vigorous sympathies. She had him tucked up on
the calico lounge and his shoes off and a hot iron at his feet; but while
she was hurrying up the kettle to make him a drink of something hot, he
rose and slipped up the outside stairs to his bedroom in the attic. There
he seated himself on the side of his neat bed which he always made himself
camp fashion,--the blankets folded lengthwise with just room for one quiet
sleeper to crawl inside; and there he sat, opening and clinching his
hands, a deep perplexity upon his features.

Aunt Polly called to him and began to read the riot act, but Leander said:
"Let him be! He gits tired o' being fussed over. You're at him about
something or other the whole blessed time."

"Well, I have to! My gracious! He'd forgit to come in to his meals if I
didn't keep him on my mind."