on the ice cream freezer! Of course
it only meant that Bunch's sister and her daughter were coming out
to look at their property, but--suffering mackerel! what an eye
Clara J. was giving me!

"And who are the two queens?" she queried, bitterly.

My face grew redder and redder. Every minute I expected to turn
into a complete boiled lobster. I could see somebody reaching for
the mayonaise to sprinkle me.

"Well," she continued, "is there no answer? Of course, they are
good girls, and you'll treat them white, but--" Then the heavens
opened and the floods descended.

"Oh, John!" she sobbed; "how could you be so unkind, so cruel!
Think of it, a scandal on the very first day in my new home, and I
was so happy!"

I would confess everything. There was no other way out of it. I
was on my knees by her side just about to blurt forth the awful
truth when my courage failed and suddenly I switched my bet and
gave the cards another cut.

"It's all a mistake," I whispered; "it's only Bunch Jefferson doing
a comedy scene. Don't you understand, dear; when Bunch tries to
get funny all the undertakers have a busy season. I simply don't
know who he means by the two queens, and as for scandal, well, you
know me, Pete!"

I threw out my chest and gave an imitation of St. Anthony.

"You must know who he means," she insisted, brightening a bit,
however.

"Ah, I have it!" I cried, brave-hearted liar that I was; "he means
my Aunt Eliza and her daughter, Julia! You remember Aunt Eliza,
and Julia?"

"I never heard you speak of them before," she said, still
unconvinced.

Good reason, too, for up to this awful moment I never had an Aunt
Eliza or a cousin Julia, but relatives must be found to fit the
emergency.

"Oh, you've forgotten, my dear," I said, soothingly. "Aunt Eliza
and Julia are two of the best Aunts I ever had--er, I mean Aunt
Eliza is the best cousin--well, let it go at that! Bunch may have
met them on the street, you see, and they inquired for my address.
Yes, that's it. Dear, old Aunt Eliza!"

"Is she very old?" Clara J. asked, willing to be convinced if I
could deliver the goods.

"Old," I echoed, then suddenly remembering Bunch's description;
"oh, no; she's a young widow, about 28 or 41, somewhere along in
there. You'll like her immensely, but I hope she doesn't come out
until we get settled in a year or two."

Clara J. dried her eyes, but I could see that she hadn't restored
me to her confidence