"What did you give the janitor, Angel-Face?" I asked.

"Only just another remembrance," Tacks answered, solemnly. "I
happened to find a poor, little dead mouse under the gas range and
I thought I'd farewell the janitor with it."

Aunt Martha sighed painfully and Uncle Peter chuckled inwardly like
a mechanical toy hen.

On the train out to Jiggersville Clara J. was a picture entitled,
"The Joy of Living"--kind regards to Mrs. Pat Campbell; Ibsen
please write.

As for me with every revolution of the wheels I grew more and more
like a half portion of chipped beef.

"Oh, John!" said Clara J., her voice shrill with excitement; "I
forgot to tell you! I left my key with Mother, and she's going to
superintend the packing of the furniture this afternoon. By
evening she expects to have everything loaded in the van and we
won't have to wait any time for our trunks and things!"

"Great Scott!" I yelled; "maybe you won't like the house! Maybe
it's only a shanty with holes in the roof--er, I mean, maybe you'll
be disappointed with the lay-out! What's the blithering sense of
being in such a consuming fever about moving the fiendish
furniture? I'm certain you'll hate the very sight of this
corn-crib out among the ant hills. Can't you back-pedal on the
furniture gag and give yourself a chance to hear the answer to what