half past ten when, by a roundabout way, he very cautiously and silently approached the Patriarch's cottage.
In the front of the cottage, the Shrine-room, as he christened it, and the Patriarch's sleeping room were both dark. Madison passed around to the beach side—here, Helena's room was dark too, but in the Flopper's window, the end room next to the kitchen and woodshed, there was a light. The night was warm, and, though the shade was drawn, the window was open. Madison whistled softly, and the Flopper stuck out his head.
"Hello, Flopper," said Madison; "come out here—I want to have a talk with you. Helena in bed?"
"No; she's out," replied the Flopper.
"Well, hurry up I" said Madison. "Come around in front by the trellis where we can see the other fellow first if anybody happens to be strolling about."
Madison withdrew from the window and walked around to the front of the cottage. Here, a few yards from the porch, by the trellis, already beginning to be leafy green, was a rustic bench on which he seated himself. The moon was not full, but there was light enough to enable him to see across the lawn through the interposing row of maples, and, hidden by the shadows himself, the seat strategetically met his requirements.
Presently, the Flopper came out of the front door and joined him.
"Say, Doc," announced the Flopper abruptly,
