dn't risk an elevator going down.

"It's all right comin' up," she said, "but if it broke when you were going
down where'd you be?"

"In the elevator," said Clover. "I'd never jump, I know that."

"Oh, I've left my ear-trumpet," said Aunt Mary.

"Let's draw lots to see who goes back?" Burnett suggested.

They drew and the lot fell to Clover.

"I'm not going back," he said coldly. "I haven't got the energy. Let her
apply the megaphone."

Jack went back.

Then they all got into the street and into the cabs. Aunt Mary and Jack
went first, Mitchell and Burnett second, and Clover brought up the rear
alone.

They set off and it must be admitted that the effect of the three cabs
going single file one after another with their five occupants giving forth
a most imperfect version of his or her favorite tune, was at once novel
and awe-inspiring. But like all sweet things upon this earth the concert
was not of long endurance. It was only a few minutes before the duos
ceased utterly to duo and the soloist in the rear fell sound asleep. For
several blocks there was a mournful and tell-tale lack of harmony upon the
air and then the three young men seemed to have exhausted their mouths and
all lapsed into a more or less conscious state of quietude.

Only Aunt Mary was indefatigable. Like Cleopatra, age seemed to have no
power to stale her infinite variety, and leaning back in her own corner
she continued to placidly and peacefully intone with disregard for time
and tune which never ruffled a wrinkle. She hadn't played on a jews-harp
in sixty years, and being deaf she was pleasantly astonished at how well
she still did it. Jack leaned in his corner with folded arms; he was
deeply conscious of wishing that it was the next day--any day--any other
day--for the week had been a wearing one and he could not but be mortally
glad that it was so nearly over. The task of fitting the plan of Aunt
Mary's revelries to the measure of her personal capacity had been a very
hard one and his soul panted for relief therefrom. It is one thing to
undertake a task and another thing to persevere to its successful
completion. Aunt Mary's nephew was tired--very tired.

A little later he felt a weight against him; he looked; it was Aunt Mary's
head,--she was oblivious there on his bosom.

He heard a voice; it was the parrot.

"Now see what you've done," it said in sepulchral tones.

They reached the house, bore the honored guest within, and deliv