Jerry was on the stand with
the tin flag up, and inside of two minutes the three of us was stowed
away inside, with the bag on top, and Dyke holdin' Bismarck in his lap.

"Now my featherbed," says Aunt Elvira, and she has the porter jam it in
alongside of me, which makes more or less of a full house. Then the
procession starts, our taxi in the lead, the brougham second, and the
married sisters trailin' behind in a hansom.

"My sakes! but these things do ride easy!" says Aunty, settlin' back in
her corner. "Can they go any faster, Dyckman?"

"Just wait until we get straightened out on the avenue," says Dyke, and
tips me the roguish glance.

"I've ridden behind some fast horses in my time," says the old lady; "so
you can't scare me. But now, Dyckman, I'd like to know exactly what
you've been doing, and what you intend to do."

Well, Dyke starts in to unload the whole yarn, beginnin' by ownin' up
that he'd scratched the Bishop proposition long ago. And he was statin'
some of his troubles at college, when I gets a backward glimpse out of
the side window at something that makes me sit up. First off I thought it
was another snow storm with flakes bigger'n I'd ever seen before, and
then I tumbles to the situation. It ain't snow; it's feathers. In jammin'
that mattress into the taxi the tick must have had a hole ripped in it,
and the part that was bulgin' through the opposite window was leakin' hen
foliage to beat the cars.

"Hey!" says I, buttin' in on the confession and pointin' back. "We're
losin' part of our cargo."

"Land sakes!" says Aunt Elvira, after one glance. "Stop! Stop!"

At that Dyke pounds on the front glass for the driver to shut off the
juice. But Jerry must have had Dyke out before, and maybe he mistook the
signal. Anyway, the machine gives a groan and a jerk and we begins
skimmin' along the asphalt at double speed. That don't check the moltin'
process any, and Dyke was gettin' real excited, when we hears a chuckle
from Aunt Elvira.

The old girl has got her eyes trained through the back window. Thanks to
our speed and the stiff wind that's blowin' down the avenue, the Mallory
brougham, with the horses on the jump to keep up with us, is gettin' the
full benefit of the feather storm. The dark green uniforms of the Mallory
coachman and footman was being plastered thick, and they was both
spittin' out feathers as fast as they could, and the Mallorys was wipin'
'em out of their eyes and ears, and the cr