send to relatives in other towns."

"She flattered you at that," said Mr. Budlong unconsolingly. "But
don't you dream of forgiving her till after Christmas."

Mrs. Budlong was having such a good cry, and enjoying the optical hath
so heartily, that her grief became very precious to her. It suggested
what a beautiful thing grief is to those who make a fine art of it.

She smiled wet-liddedly. "There is nothing in your idea, Ulie, but it
has suggested a good one to me. I'll announce that I can't celebrate
Christmas because of our great grief for Aunt Ida."

"Great grief!" Mr. Budlong echoed. "Why, you couldn't have celebrated
Aunt Ida's finish more joyous without you'd serenaded her in Woodlawn
with a brass band."

"Ulysses Budlong! you ought to be ashamed of yourself for saying such a
thing!" But she suddenly heard, in fancy, the laugh that would go up
if she sprung such an excuse. She gave in:

"We'll have to quarrel with somebody then. But what excuse is there?"

"Women don't need any real excuse. You simply telephone Sally Swezey
that a certain person told you--and you won't name any names--that she
had been making fun of you and you'd be much obliged if she never spoke
to you again for you'd certainly never speak to her again."

"But how do I know Sally Swezey has been making fun of me?"

"Oh, there ain't any doubt but what everybody in town is doing that."

"Ulysses Budlong! how can you talk so!"

"If people without money couldn't make fun of people with--what
consolation would they have? Anyway, it's not me but the other folks
you're supposed to quarrel with. You spend an hour at that telephone
and you can get the whole town by the ears."

"But I can't use the same excuse for everybody."

"You'll think up plenty once you put your mind to it." And with that
another excuse came in pat. Came in howling and flagrant.

Ulysses Junior burst into the room, as if he had forgotten the presence
of the door. He was yelping like a coyote and from his tiny nose an
astonishing amount of blood was spouting.

"What on earth is the matter!" the startled mother gasped. "Come here
to me, you poor child---and be careful not to bleed on the new rug."

Ulysses' articulation was impeded with sobs and the oscillations of
three semi-detached teeth, that waved in the breeze as he screamed:
"Little Clarence Detwiller LICKED me! so he did! and I on'y p-pushed
him off his sled into a puddle of ice wa-wa-water a