sport ear danglers, or anything like that. With Father in the
background she comes sailin' up smilin', and it ain't until she gets a
peek under the mush-bowl lid that her expression changes.

"Why, Gladys!" she gasps.

"Now, Mummah!" protests Gladys peevish. "For goodness sake don't
begin--anyway, not here!"

"But--but, my dear!" goes on Mother, starin' at her shocked.
"That--that hat! And your hair! And--and your face!"

"Oh, bother!" says Gladys, stampin' her high-heeled pump. "You'd like
to have me dress like Cousin Tilly, I suppose?"

"But you know I asked you not to--to have that done to your hair
again," says Mother.

"And I said I would, so there!" says Gladys emphatic.

Mother sighs and turns to Father, who is makin' his inspection with a
weary look on his face. He's just an average, stout-built,
good-natured lookin' duck, Father is, a little bald in front, and just
now he's rubbin' the bald spot sort of aimless.

"You see, Arthur," says Mother. "Can't you do something?"

First Father scowls, and then he flushes up. "Why--er--ah--oh, blast
it all, Sallie, don't put it up to me!" says he. Then he pulls out a
long black cigar, bites the end off savage, and beats it around the