CHAPTER XA NEWSPAPER RIPPED IN ANGER
When John Quincy got back to the living-room he found Miss Minerva pacing up and down with the light of battle in her eyes. He selected a large, comfortable-looking chair and sank into it.
“Anything the matter?” he inquired. “You seem disturbed.”
“I’ve just been having a lot of pilikia,” she announced.
“What’s that—another native drink?” he said with interest. “Could I have some too?”
“Pilikia means trouble,” she translated. “Several reporters have been here, and you’d hardly credit the questions they asked.”
“About Cousin Dan, eh?” John Quincy nodded. “I can imagine.”
“However, they got nothing out of me. I took good care of that.”
“Go easy,” advised John Quincy. “A fellow back home who had a divorce case in his family was telling me that if yo
