"Now for mercy's sake, don't let me hear from you again," was her
speech of thanks to them when the teaspoons had been recovered and
restored to her.
She might have been severely left alone after this, if Sydney Cooke had
not discovered a remarkable peculiarity she possessed. Sydney was a great
lover of games, and he had brought his pocket checkerboard and men with
him. He persuaded Winifred Marion Brown to play a game with him, and the
rest of the party crowded around to watch.
"I'll trouble you to let me pass," said the owner of the teaspoons, when
Sydney had just made his first play.
The group parted to let her through, closed in again, and opened again
for her when she came back. No one paid any attention to this until she
had made the request four times.
"What ails that woman?" demanded Sydney irritably.
Each time she had passed him she had brushed his elbow, scattering his
checkers about. Ordinarily sweet-tempered, Sydney was beginning to weary
of this performance.
"What do you think?" snickered Bobby Littell. "She takes a white tablet
every five minutes. Honest! I've been watching her. She sits there with
her watch in her hand, and exactly five minutes apart--I've timed
her--she starts for the water cooler.
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