"Nonsense, Ollie," Dorothy shouted back over her shoulder. "You know you don't believe that! They always separate in the summer."
"That's true," said her brother. "Dad always had to have a vacation from the family. He always took one whenever, as he used to say to us, 'Your mother is growing too good to be true. I've got to have a rest.' But other summers they have agreed to separate—peaceably—by collusion. This time father went off in a flaming huff. And I don't think my mother is in a mood to ask him back again. Their relations have been severely strained."
"Oliver," I said, "you are your father over again for diabolical badinage. Cut it out, please. Tell me seriously what you are talking about."
"I'm as serious," he replied, "as a great horned owl. Dolly and I have reasoned earnestly with them both. But our parents are hard people to deal with on a rational basis. My mother has principles, you know; and it's no use talking to people with principles. And my father, when he gets in a huff, is as obstinate as a mule."
"Come now," I urged with a little irritation, "is there anything in this, at all? What was the huff about?"
