commished for fair, but the bogie man caught me and I lose all I
had. Since then I've been trying to sell a gold mine I own out in
the Blue Hills."

I tried to sidetrack Skinski and lead him away from the smoking
room, but Uncle Peter insisted upon hearing more about those
dreamland gold mines.

"I've got the documents and everything to prove that my claim is
all the goods," Skinski rattled on. "All it needs is the capital
to work it and it's a bonanza, sure--isn't it, Dodey--I mean Flo!"

"You betcher sweet!" she answered, whereupon Peaches and Aunt
Martha had a fit of coughing which lasted three minutes.

Then Uncle Peter coaxed Skinski off in a corner and there they
hobnobbed for fifteen minutes while my wife and her aunt and I
tried to get cheerful and chatty with "Aunt Flo," but we only
succeeded in dragging from her four reluctant "You betcher sweets!"

Presently Uncle Peter and Skinski shook hands about something, and
five minutes later Bunch's "relatives" took their departure to the
accompaniment of much internal applause on my part.

"Mr. McGowan is a very accomplished gentleman," Uncle Peter
decided; "but handicapped by a most depressing wife, most
depressing. The Blue Hills, eh! the Blue Hills! Now, I wonder----"

Then he began to whistle softly and went into the dining-room.