y," says I, "this is to protect the guests from the rude stares of
the common herd; also it's useful in case of a shower."

"Of all things!" says she, sniffin' contemptuous.

"If you don't like the idea," says I, "suppose I mention it to Mr.
Twombley-Crane? Maybe he'll take it down."

"That'll do, young man!" says she. "Don't try to be smart with me! And
don't think I'm asking fool questions just out of curiosity! I'm related
to Twombley-Crane."

"Eh?" says I, gawpin' at her.

"Cousin by marriage," says she.

"I--I take it all back then," says I. "Excuse my gettin' so gay. Come on
a visit, have you?"

"Ye-e-es," says she hesitatin'; "that is, I s'pose we have. We ain't
made up our minds exactly."

"We?" says I, gazin' around.

"Mr. Leavitt is behind the tent there, as usual," says she, "and he----
My land! I guess it's jest as well he is," she gasps, as a limousine
rolls up to the front of the canopy, a liveried footman hops off the
driver's seat, whisks open the door, and helps unload Mrs. K. Taylor
French.

Quite some wishbone in front and more or less spinal column aft Mrs. K.
Taylor is exposin' as she brushes past us up the strip of red carpet. So
you could hardly blame the old girl for bein' jarred.

"Young man," says she, turnin' on me severe, "what's going on here
to-night?"

"Dinner dance, that's all," says I.

"You mean they're having a lot of company in?" says she.

I nods.

"Then that settles it!" says she. "We don't go a step nearer to-night.
But where we will stay, goodness only knows!"

She was pikin' off, her chin in the air, when it struck me that if these
really was jay relations of the Twombley-Cranes, maybe I ought to lend
'em a helpin' hand. So I trails along until she brings up beside another
party who seems to be waitin' patient just under the front windows.

He's a tall, stoop-shouldered gent, with a grayish mustache and a good
deal of gold watch chain looped across his vest. In each hand he's
holdin' a package careful by the strings, and between his feet is one of
these extension canvas grips that you still see in use out in the
kerosene circuit.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," says I, "but I'm more or less a friend of the
fam'ly, and if you've come on special to visit 'em, maybe you'd better
wait while I let 'em know you're here. My name's McCabe, and if you'll
give me yours, why----"

"I'm Mrs. Sallie Leavitt, of Clarks Mills," says the old girl.

"Oh, yes," says I, "Clarks Mill