e! Homer--I want an explanation."

"An explanation of what?"

"There is a person at the door who calls himself Bag Ears Mulligan. He
has the audacity to claim you invited him to--to this _brawl_ as he
terms it."

I must here explain--with sorrow--that my Aunt Gretchen is a snob. There
is no other term for it. It has gotten to be such a habit with her that
any friend of mine is automatically a person to be looked down on.

And Bag Ears Mulligan is one of my dearest friends. Of course I had
invited him to my wedding, and felt honored by his attendance. Bag Ears
is a habitue of one of the less glittering places I frequent in search
of lasting fellowship--Red Nose Tessie's Bar, to be exact. A place of
dirty beer glasses but of warm hearts and sincere people.

"I'll see this man, Aunt Gretchen," I said with calm dignity. "He is to
be an honored guest. While somewhat rugged in appearance, Bag Ears has a
sensitive nature and must be treated with understanding."

Aunt Gretchen's lips quivered. "Homer--I'm through--absolutely and
finally through! You can get someone else to handle your next wedding
reception. Hold it in a barn or a stable. Never again in my house."

After this tactless outburst, Aunt Gretchen came about and sailed out of
the conservatory. Joy and I followed wordlessly.

Upon arriving at the front door, we found Aunt Gretchen had spoken the
truth. Bag Ears was waiting there. He had been herded into a corner by
Johnson, Aunt Gretchen's stuffed shirt of a butler, who was standing
guard over him.

Bag Ears grinned happily when he caught sight of me and I smiled
reassuringly. While Bag Ears is not too richly endowed with good looks,
he has a great heart and at one time was possessed of a lightning-fast
brain. However, he took a great deal of punishment during his
unsuccessful climb toward the lightweight title, and his brain has been
slowed down to the point where it sometimes comes to a complete halt.
His features reflect the fury of a hundred battles in the squared ring.
They are in a sad state, his ears particularly. They hang wearily
downward like the leaves of a dying cabbage plant.

Also, Bag Ears has fallen into the misfortune of hearing bells at
various times--bells that exist only in his poor, bewildered mind. But
he is cheerful and warm-hearted nonetheless.

He said, "Homer, this character says I should o' brung along my invite.
But I don't remember you givin' me one. You just ast me to come."