girlish language I'm using—I'd like to bite something!"
She turned impulsively to the door, stepped out into the hall, and called the Flopper from his room.
"Flopper, you go in there and stay with the Patriarch for awhile," she ordered curtly. "I'm going down on the beach to yell."
"Yell?" inquired the Flopper, blinking helplessly.
"I'm going outside to yell—yell. You know what 'yell' means, don't you?" she snapped.
"Swipe me!" observed the Flopper, gazing at her anxiously. "Skirts is all de same—youse never know wot dey'll do next. Wot you wanter yell fer?"
"You mind your own business and do as you're told!" said Helena tartly. "Go in there and stay with the Patriarch."
"Sure," said the Flopper, grinning a little now. "Sure t'ing—but youse needn't get on yer ear about it. Cheer up, mabbe de Doc 'll be out to-night, an' if he don't hear youse yellin' himself will I tell him youse are out on de beach t'rowin' a fit?"
"No," Helena answered sharply; "tell him nothing—I'm out." Then, quite as quickly, changing her mind: "Yes; tell him I'm down there—or come and get me yourself"—and she walked abruptly into her own room.
"Now wot do youse t'ink of dat?" demanded the Flopper of the universe. He blinked at the
