Aunt Nemesis, glaring at me from behind
her spectacles.

I decided to die without going over near the piano.

"Where are they?" I could hear Aunt Martha asking in the same tone
of voice I was certain the Roman Emperor used when just about to
frame up a finale for a few Christians from over the Tiber.

"Uncle Peter has gone for them; we put them in the spare room,"
answered Clara J.

"What! _in the spare room_!" gasped Aunt Martha, collapsing in a
chair just as Uncle Peter appeared in the doorway, bowing low
before the visitors, who stalked clumsily into the parlor.

For some reason or other Clara J. omitted the formality of
springing forward and greeting my relatives effusively, so she
simply said, "You are very welcome, Aunt Eliza and cousin Julia!"

"Great heavens! what does this mean?" shrieked Aunt Martha. "It
cannot be possible that these two women are relatives of yours,
John! Why, I engaged them both in an intelligence office; one for
the kitchen, the other as parlor maid!"

"Sure not," I chirped, in joy-freighted accents, as I grasped the
glorious situation. "They aren't my relatives and never were. The
more I look at them the more convinced I am that there's no room
for them to perch on my family tree. I disown them both. Back to
the woods with the Swede imposters!"

I win by an eyelash.

I was so happy I went over to the mantel and began to bite the
bric-a-brac.

Clara J. didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she compromised by
giggling at Uncle Peter, who sat on the piano stool whirling
himself around rapidly and muttering, "any kind of exercise is good
exercise."

Aunt Martha stared around the room from one to another in
speechless amazement, while the two innocent causes of all the
trouble stood motionless, with their noses tip-tilted to the
ceiling.

Presently Aunt Martha broke the spell just as I was about to eat a
cut-glass vase in the gladness of my heart.

"Go to the kitchen!" she said sharply to the newcomers, whereupon
they both turned in unison and looked the old lady all over.
Finally they decided to discharge Aunt Martha, for the oldest
member of the troupe folded her arms decisively and said, "Sure, it
ain't in any lunatic asylum I'll be afther livin', bless th'
Saints! If yez have a sinsible moment left in your head will yez
give us th' car fare back to th' city, and it'll be a blessed hour
for me whin I plants me feet on th' ferryboat, so it will!"

Uncle Peter ch