Punch and Judy stuff," says I. "Whittles little dummies out of
wood, paints their faces, dresses 'em up, and makes 'em act by pullin' a
lot of strings. Writes reg'lar plays for 'em. He's got a complete little
theatre fitted up over his garage; stage, scenery, footlights, folding
chairs and everything. Gives a show every now and then. Swell affairs.
Everybody turns out. Course they snicker some in private, but he gets
away with it."

Garvey stares at me sort of dazed. "And here I've been afraid to do
anything but walk around my place wearing gloves and carrying a cane;"
says he. "Afraid of doing something that wasn't genteel, or that would
get the neighbors talking. While these aristocrats do what they please.
They do, don't they!"

"That about states it," says I.

"Do--do you suppose I could do that, too?" he asks.

"Why not?" says I. "You don't stand to lose anything, do you, even if
they do chatter? If I was you I'd act natural and tell 'em to go hang."

"You would?" says he, still starin'.

"To the limit," says I. "What's the fun of livin' if you can't?"

"Say, young man," says Garvey, slappin' his knee. "That listens
sensible to me. Blamed if I don't. And I--I'm much obliged."

And after he's gone Vee comes down from upstairs and wants to know what
on earth I've been talking so long to that Mr. Garvey about.

"Why," says I, "I've been givin' him some wise dope on how to live among
plutes and be happy."

"Silly!" says Vee, rumplin' my red hair. "Do you know what I've made up
my mind to do some day this week? Have you take me for an evening call
on the Garveys."

"Gosh!" says I. "You're some little Polar explorer, ain't you?"

It was no idle threat of Vee's. A few nights later we got under way
right after dinner and drove over there. I expect we were about the
first outsiders to push the bell button since they moved in. But we'd no
sooner rung than Vee begins to hedge.

"Why, they must be giving a party!" says she. "Listen! There's an
orchestra playing."

"Uh-huh!" says I. "Sounds like a jazz band."

A minute later, though, when the butler opens the door, there's no sound
of music, and as we goes in we catches Garvey just strugglin' into his
dinner coat. He seems glad to see us, mighty glad. Says so. Tows us
right into the big drawin' room. But Mrs. Garvey ain't so enthusiastic.
She warms up about as much as a cold storage turkey.

You can't feaze Vee, though, when she starts in to be folksy. "I'm j