"Must be our invalid and his rumpus machine.

Whittington, we're just in the mood to-night, you and I, to wander over there and tell him that he's not getting half so much over on us as he thinks he is.

I've a mind to send you forward with my card." Philip's eyes narrowed and he laughed softly.

Tearing a sheet of paper from a notebook he took from his pocket, he scribbled upon it the following astonishing message: "The Duke of Connecticut desires an audience.

Do not kick the courier!" Accustomed by now to carry birch-bark messages to Diane, Richard Whittington waggled in perfect understanding and trotted off obediently toward the fire with Philip close at his heels.
Conceivably astonished, the camper presently picked up the paper which Mr.Whittington dropped at his feet, and read it.