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 When I got to the house, Mother was sitting on the veranda. "Wait a minute, Chester," she said, "I have something I want to talk to you about."

I knew in a second what was coming. I'd been keeping that other girl under lock and key in the coal-cellar of my "brown study," and to come home and find her as good as sitting on the front steps and grinning at me, made me warm around the collar. I stopped in my tracks. "What is it?" I said, keeping my teeth pretty close together.

Mother thought I didn't look very promising, and sort of hesitated.

"Is it about her coming here?" I asked, in a very level voice.

Mother looked surprised. "Yes. I didn't know that you—"

"Never mind," I said. I could feel the wrinkles getting tight around my eyes. "There's no use in talking about it." Then I had a moment of hope. "There's no way of getting around it, is there?"

"No," said Mother, very decidedly for her.

"Well, then, let's drop it until the times comes."

"Very well," said Mother, her lips a little narrow.