Just then, Helen came into the room and I could tell, even before she spoke, that she had been waiting for me.

“Joe Adams,” she demanded, “what have you been up to?”

“Not a thing,” I told her.

“Marge says you got Lewis all upset.”

“It doesn’t take a lot to upset him.”

“There’s something going on,” she insisted, “and I want to know what it is.”

I knew I was licked. “I’ve been trading.”

“Trading! After all I’ve said about Bill?”

“But this is different.”

“Trading is trading,” she said flatly.

Bill came in the front door, but he must have heard his mother say “trading", for he ducked out again. I yelled for him to come back.

“I want both of you to sit down and listen to me,” I said.

“You can ask questions and offer suggestions and give me hell after I’m through.”

So we sat down, all three of us, and had a family pow-wow.

It took quite a bit to make Helen believe what I had to tell, but I pointed out the dot in the desk and showed them the triangular glasses and the pair of glasses that had been refitted with the pink lenses and sent back to me. By that time, she was ready to admit there was something going on. Even so, she was fairly well burned up at me for marking up the floor around the desk legs.

I didn’t show either her or Bill the pen that was a fishing-rod, for I was scared of that. Flourish it around a bit and there was no telling what would happen.

Bill was interested and excited, of course. This was trading, which was right down his alley.

I cautioned both of them not to say a word about it. Bill wouldn’t, for he was hell on secrets and special codes. But bright and early in the morning, Helen would probably swear Marge to secrecy, then tell her all about it and there wasn’t a thing that I could do or say to stop her.