Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Only—well, it does make me angry to have folks do things I can't understand. If he will come back and explain why he is wandering around the country with a disreputable dog, paying compliments to strange ladies over front gates and talking about white houses with friendly windows and hollyhocks and dove-cots—what is a dove-cot, Beryl? ”

“ Vernon, with decision. “And now that you reassure me as to his sanity, I should like to know him. I especially want to know why he insists on a dove-cot. Personally, I think pigeons are frightfully dirty things.”
“Not half bad en casserole,” chuckled Smith.
“Perhaps he means to raise squabs,” Beryl suggested.
“There's no telling,” said Smith delightedly. “He—he's a queer duffer.”
“I found him most amusing,” said Mrs. Vernon. “When you see him, Mr. Smith, please don't fail to ask him whether he found his house with the hollyhocks and the friendly windows and the dove-cot. ”

“ He's written two or three books, mostly travels. One was a novel, though. I never tackled the travel books, but I did have a go at the novel. It was funny stuff; didn't have any—what-do-you-call-it—plot. I supposed he was abroad somewhere until I came across this note. They said at the club that he wandered in there one day last week and asked to see the membership list. ”