ound
the city without running them into any "High Life." But he knew that if
that crowd ever struck Coney Island on a good busy afternoon, his hopes
of becoming a favorite son-in-law were gone.

But Mother insisted, so the next morning he took Deacon Abinidab and the
three "sisters in black" and started for Coney Island. Although I have
examined him closely on this point, he does not seem to have any very
clear idea yet as to where they went that day, or what they did. All he
can say is that "it was awful." They insisted on Hot Dogs, Pop Corn,
Peanut Brittle, Dreamland, Luna Park, and all the rest; they went
through the Old Mill, and they made George come down the "Bump the
Bumps," "Shoot the Shoots" and such other exhilarating devices as they
did not dare to tackle themselves.

They had supper in Henderson's, watching the Vaudeville show on the
stage as they ate. They watched the fireworks, and it was ten o'clock
before George could get them started toward home. When he got them on
the train, homeward bound, he heaved a sigh of mighty relief, but
afterwards regretted wasting a sigh of that sort in that way.

Arriving in New York, they were wending their way up Broadway, near
Twenty-ninth Street; Uncle Abinidab had been sort of hanging back for a
block or two, looking here and there in a searching kind of way, and
finally he took George's arm and said confidentially: "George, laddie,
do ye ken a place where we can get a wee nippie?" George didn't know
whether the inquiry was on the level, or whether it was a sort of
"feeler" to find out how he stood on the temperance question. But he
decided to "play safety" so he stated promptly that he did not know of
such a place in New York City.

But Mother! Ah ha! That mother-in-law, that since Creation's dawn has
been abused and vilified, that mother-in-law, that through all those
years George had feared and dreaded; that mother-in-law, at whose
approach he had hidden his pipe and tobacco; that mother-in-law that he
had never approached without a clove and a stage fright. Now, it was she
who spoke up like Horatio at the Bridge and said:

"_I know a place._"

George was stunned; speechless; if the statue of Horace Greeley just
passed, had spoken those words, he couldn't have been more surprised. He
looked at her in amazement and asked her what "place" she knew. "Right
down this street here," she said; "come on."

And if you guessed a thousand years, you never would guess w