I froze in sudden alarm when I
realized Joy was no longer at my side. Just as I made this discovery,
there was an upsurge of commotion at the bar; a commotion that went head
and shoulders over the minor ones going on constantly. A short angry
scream came to my ears, then a bull-voiced roar of agony.

* * * * *

The crowd at the buffet surged back and I saw a bucktoothed hooligan
bent double, both hands gripping his ankle. Thick moans came from his
lips.

And standing close to him was my Joy. But a new Joy. A different Joy
than I had ever seen. A glorious Joy, with her head thrown back, her
teeth showing, and the light of battle in her eyes. She was holding a
plate of jello in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other and was
shouting in outraged dignity.

"Watch who you're shoving, you jug-headed gorilla! And keep your mitts
out of the herring! Eat like a man or go back to the zoo!"

With that she placed an accurate kick against the offending character's
other shine-bone and aimed the beer bottle at his skull.

Joy turned and smiled gayly. "He pushed me," she said. "It's the most
wonderful wedding reception I ever attended. Have a pickle."

But surprise was piling upon surprise. Again I froze as a new phase of
this horrible affair presented itself.

Uncle Peter.

Clad in apron and cap, he was behind the bar serving out drinks. This
shook me to the core. It was a little like seeing Barney Baruch hit a
three-bagger in Yankee Stadium and slide into third base.

But there he was, taking orders and dishing out drinks with an attitude
as solemn and impersonal as an owl on a tree branch.

Also, he had an assistant--his blonde bombshell. She was fully dressed
now and I was struck by the peculiar manner in which this peculiar team
functioned.

Uncle Peter would mix a drink, glance at his wrist watch as he served
it, then turn and whisper some sort of information to the girl. She
noted it down in a small book and the routine was repeated.

At this exact moment, I felt a sharp dig in the ribs. This brought my
attention back to Joy, who had done the digging.

"I'm still here, husband mine. Your bride--remember? Or are you waiting
for that blonde hussy to start stripping?"

"Darling, I'm afraid you're not paying close attention to things of
importance. Don't you see Uncle Peter there--serving drinks?"

"Of course I see him. What of it? If the old roue feels like dishing
out a litt