"And others," says he, "in the Forest of Arden."

CHAPTER XI

A LOOK IN ON THE GOAT GAME

Pinckney was tellin' me, here awhile back at lunch one day, what terrors them twins of his was gettin' to be. He relates a tragic tale about how they'd just been requested to resign from another private school where they'd been goin' as day scholars.

"That is the third this season," says he; "the third, mind you!"

"Well, there's more still, ain't there?" says I.

"Brilliant observation, Shorty," says he, "also logical and pertinent.

Yes, there are several others still untried by the twins."

"What you howlin' about, then?" says I.

"Because," says he, toyin' with the silver frame that holds the bill of fare, "because it is not my intention to demoralize all the educational institutions of this city in alphabetical order."

"G'wan!" says I. "The kids have got to be educated somewhere, haven't they?"

"Which is the sad part of it," says Pinckney, inspectin' the dish of scrambled eggs and asparagus tips and wavin' the waiter to do the serving himself. "It means," he goes on, "having a governess around the house, and you know what nuisances they can be."

"Do I?" says I. "The nearest I ever got to havin' a governess was when Mrs. O'Grady from next door used to come in to use our wash-tubs and I was left with her for the day. Nobody ever called her a nuisance and got away with it."

"What an idyllic youth to look back upon!" says he. "I can remember half a dozen, at least, who had a hand in directing the course of my budding intellect, and each one of them developed some peculiarity which complicated the domestic situation. I am wondering what this new governess of ours will contribute."

"Got one on the job already, eh?" says I.

"This is her third day," says he, "and if she manages to live through it with the twins, I shall have hope."

"Ah, pickles!" says I. "Those kids are all right. They're full of life and ginger, that's all."

"Especially ginger," says Pinckney.

"What of it?" says I. "Or are you just blowin' about 'em? It's all right, they're a great pair, and any time you want to entertain me for half an hour, turn 'em loose in my comp'ny."

"Done!" says Pinckney. "We'll take a cab right up."

"Put it off three minutes, can't you?" says I, lookin' over the French pastry tray and spearin' a frosted creampuff that was decorated up with sugar flowers until it looked like a bride's bouquet.

He insists on callin' my bluff, though; so up the avenue we goes, when I should have been hotfootin' it back to the studio. But I could see that Pinckney was some anxious about how the kids was gettin' on, Gertie being away for the day, and I thinks maybe I'll be useful in calmin' any riot he might find in progress.

All was quiet and peaceful, though, as Pinckney opens the door with his latchkey. No howls from upstairs, no front windows broken, and nobody slidin' down the banisters. We was just waitin' for the automatic elevator to come down when we hears voices floatin' out from the lib'ry.

Pinckney steps to the doorway where he can see through into the next room, and then beckons me up for a squint.

It wa'n't the kids at all, but a couple of grownups that was both strangers to me. From the way the young woman is dressed I could guess she was the new governess. Anyway, she's makin' herself right to home, so far as entertainin' comp'ny goes; for she and the gent with her is more or less close together and mixed up. First off it looked like a side-hold lover's clinch, and then again it didn't.

"Is it a huggin' match, or a rough-house tackle?" I whispered over Pinckney's shoulder.

"I pass the declaration," says he. "Suppose we investigate."

With that we strolls in, and we're within a dozen feet of the couple before they get wise to the fact that there's an int'rested audience. I must say, though, that they made a clean, quick breakaway. Then they stands, starin' at us.

"Ah, Miss Marston!" says Pinckney. "Do I interrupt?"

"Why--er--er--you see, sir," she begins, "I--that is--we----"

And she breaks down with as bad a case of rattles as I ever see. She's a nice lookin', modest appearin' young woman, too, a little soft about the mouth, but more or less classy in her lines. Her hair is some mussed, and there's sort of a wild, desp'rate look in her eyes.

"A near relative, I presume?" suggests Pinckney, noddin' at the gent, who's takin' it all cool enough.

"Oh, yes, sir," gasps out the governess. "My husband, sir."

And the gent, he bows as easy and natural as if he was bein' introduced at an afternoon tea party. "Glad to know you," says he, stickin' out his hand, which Pinckney, bein' absent-minded just then, fails to see.

"Really!" says Pinckney, lookin' the governess up and down. "Then it's not Miss Marston, but Mrs.--er----"

"Yes," says she, lettin' her chin drop, "Mrs. Marston."

"Very unfortunate," says Pinckney, "very!"

"Haw, haw, haw!" breaks out the strange gent, slappin' his knee. "I say now, but that's a good one, that is, even if it is at my expense!

Unfortunate, eh? Perfectly true though, perfectly true!"

Now it takes a lot to get Pinckney going; but for a minute all he does is turn and size up this husband party with the keen sense of humor. I had my mouth open and my eyes bugged too; for he don't look the part at all.

Why, he's dressed neat and expensive, a little sporty maybe, for a real gent; but he carries it off well.

"Glad to have your assurance that I was right," says Pinckney, still givin' him the frosty eye.

"Oh, don't mention it," says Mr. Marston. "And I trust you will overlook my butting in here to see Kitty--er, Mrs. Marston. Little matter of sentiment and--well, business, you know. I don't think it will happen often."

"I am quite sure it won't," says Pinckney. "And now, if the interview has been finished, I would suggest that----"

"Oh, certainly, certainly!" says Marston, edging towards the door. "Allow me, gentlemen, to bid you good-day. And I say, Kit, don't forget that little matter. By-by."

Honest, if I could make as slick a backout as that, without carryin' away anybody's footprint, I'd rate myself a headliner among the trouble dodgers. Pinckney, though, don't seem to appreciate such talents.

"That settles governess No. 1," says he as we starts for the elevator again. "We are beginning the series well."

That was before he saw how smooth she got along with Jack and Jill. After she'd given an exhibition of kid trainin' that was a wonder, he remarked that possibly he might as well let her stay the week out.

"But of course," says he, "she will have to go. Hanged if I understand how Mrs. Purdy-Pell happened to send her here, either! Shorty, do you suppose Sadie could throw any light on this case?"

"I'll call for a report," says I.