He was plainly
enjoying the effect of his magic invasion. To make the puzzle all the
more startling, Mr. Cronk was attired in one of David's loose
dressing-gowns. He wore a pair of comfortable slippers and he smoked
David's picturesque Algerian pipe. A picture of domestic contentment
was he. You might have taken him to be the owner of the house, and not
the sly intruder.
"What are you doing in my room?" Dick demanded, assuming an air of
severity.
David's astonishment gave way to a hearty laugh. He advanced with his
hand extended.
"Well, you _do_ beat the world," he exclaimed. "In the name of heaven,
where did you come from?"
They shook hands. Dick's sprightly face presented a myriad of joyous
wrinkles.
"Where did I come from, kid--I should say, Mr. Jenison? I--"
"Call me David," interrupted the other.
"Sure! Come from? Take a seat, kid. You are my guest for the evening.
Make yourself at home. I've got a couple of toddies planted here
behind the dresser. You see, I was expectin' you." He went over and,
reaching down behind the bureau, came up with two toddy glasses in
which the ice clinked cheerily.
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