came from,
and make allowances. They're in the swim, anyway.

The trouble might be with Garvey. He's about the same type as the other
half of the sketch--a big, two-fisted ruddy-faced husk, attired sporty
in black and white checks, with gray gaiters and a soft hat to match the
suit. Wore a diamond-set Shriners' watch fob, and an Elks' emblem in his
buttonhole. Course, you wouldn't expect him to have any gentle, ladylike
voice, and he don't. I heard he'd been sent on as an eastern agent of
some big Kansas City packin' house. Must have been a good payin' line,
for he certainly looks like ready money. But somehow he don't seem to be
popular with our bunch of commuters, although at first I understand he
tried to mix in free and easy.

Anyway, the verdict appears to be against lettin' the Garveys in, and we
had about as much to do with it as we did about fixin' the price of
coal, or endin' the sugar shortage. Yet here when we try to do one of
'em a good turn we get the cold eye.

"Next time," says I, "we'll remember we are strangers, and not give her
an openin' to throw it at us."

So I'm a little surprised the followin' Sunday afternoon to see the
Garvey limousine stoppin' out front. As I happens to be wanderin' around
outside I steps up to the gate just as Garvey is gettin' out.

"Ah, Ballard!" he says, cordial. "I want to thank you and Mrs. Ballard
for picking Mrs. Garvey up the other day when our fool chauffeur went to
sleep at the switch. It--it was mighty decent of you."

"Not at all," says I "Couldn't do much less for a neighbor, could we?"

"Some could," says he. "A whole lot less. And if you don't mind my
saying so, it's about the first sign we've had that we were counted as
neighbors."

"Oh, well," says I, "maybe nobody's had a chance to show it before. Will
you come in a minute and thaw out in front of the wood fire?"

"Why--er--I suppose it ain't reg'lar," says he, "but blamed if I
don't."

And after I've towed him into the livin' room, planted him in a wing
chair, and poked up the hickory logs, he springs this conundrum on me:

"Ballard," says he, "I'd like to ask you something and have you give me
an answer straight from the shoulder."

"That's my specialty," says I. "Shoot."

"Just what's the matter with us--Mrs. Garvey and me?" he demands.

"Why--why--Who says there's anything the matter with either of you?" I
asks, draggy.

"They don't have to say it," says he. "They act it. Everybody in th