"Who's Holloway?" Jack asked.
"You can't expect to have her all the time, you know," Burnett continued:
"She's really one of the biggest guns here, even if she is one of the
family."
"Who's Holloway?"
"Last night the _mater_ had her all mapped out for General Jiggs, and I
had an awful time getting her off his hook and on to yours, and then you
drove her all this morning and walked her all the afternoon, and the old
lady says she's got to play in Holloway's yard to-night--jus' lil' bit, you
know."
"Who's Holloway?" Jack demanded.
"You know Horace Holloway; we were up at his place once for the night.
Don't you remember?"
"I remember his place well enough; but he hadn't got in when we came, and
hadn't got up when we left, so his features aren't as distinctly imprinted
on my memory as they might be."
"That's so," said Burnett, pushing aside the curtains that concealed the
foot of the wee stair; "I'd forgotten. Well, you'll meet him to-night,
anyhow; he came on the five-five. Holly's a nice fellow, only he's so
darned over-full of good advice that he keeps you feeling withersome."
Jack laughed.
"Did he ever give you any advice?" he asked.
"Why?"
"I don't recollect your taking it."
"I never take anything," said Burnett; "I consider it more blessed to give
than to receive--as regards good advice anyhow."
"Who will I have for dinner?" Jack asked presently, glancing around to see
if there were any silver tissues or distracting curls in sight.
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