e a number of my old favorites. I notice among them a song from
_The Bohemian Girl_. It bears the title of _Then You'll Remember Me_.
Poor old Peter! For when I play it, I know I'll always be thinking of
another man.

_Sunday the Fifth_

Life is a club from which Cupid can never be blackballed. I notice
that Struthers, who seems intent on the capture of a soul-mate, has
taken to darning Whinstane Sandy's socks for him. And Whinnie, who is
a bit of a cobbler as well as being a bit of renegade to the ranks of
the misogynists, has put new heels and soles on the number sevens
which Struthers wears at the extremities of her heron-like limbs. Thus
romance, beginning at the metatarsus, slowly but surely ascends to the
diastolic region!

_Wednesday the Eighth_

I've just had a nice little note from Peter, written from the Aldine
Club in Philadelphia, saying he'd neglected to mention something which
had been on his mind for some time. He has a slightly rundown place in
the suburbs of Pasadena, he went on to explain, and as his lazy summer
would mean he'd have to remain in the East and be an ink-coolie all
winter, the place was at my disposal if it so turned out that a winter
in California seemed desirable for me and my kiddies. It would, in
fact, be a God-send--so he protested--to have somebody dependable
lodged in that empty house, to keep the cobwebs out of the corners and
the mildew off his books and save the whole disintegrating shebang
from the general rack and ruin which usually overtakes empty mansions
of that type. He gave me the name and address of the caretaker, on
Euclid Avenue, and concluded by saying it wasn't very much of a place,
but might be endured for a winter for the sake of the climate, if I
happened to be looking for a sunnier corner of the world than Alabama
Ranch. He further announced that he'd give an arm to see little
Dinkie's face when that young outlaw stole his first ripe orange from
the big Valencia tree in the _patio_. And Peter, in a post-script,
averred that he could vouch for the flavor of the aforementioned
Valencias.

_Tuesday the Fourteenth_

Whinstane Sandy about the middle of last week brought home the
startling information that Sing Lo had sold Lady Allie's heavy
work-team to Bud O'Malley for the paltry sum of sixty dollars. He
further reported that Sing Lo had decamped, taking with him a