"Not an ascension," said he, with my bitterness going right over his
head. "Nothing sensational, Minnie. That's the way with women; they're
always theatrical. But what's the matter with a captive balloon, and
letting fresh-air cranks sleep in a big basket bed--say, at five hundred
feet? Or a thousand--a thousand would be better. The air's purer."

"With a net below," says I, "in case they should turn over and fall out
of bed! It's funny nobody ever thought of it before!"

"Isn't it?" exclaimed Mrs. Dick. "And we've all sorts of ideas.
Dick--Mr. Carter has learned of a brand new cocktail for the men--"

"A lulu!" he broke in.

"And I'm going around to read to the old ladies and hold their hands--"

"You'll have to chloroform them first," I put in. "Perhaps it would be
better to give the women the cocktail and hold the men's hands."

"Oh, if you're going to be funny!" Mr. Dick said savagely, "we'll not
tell you any more. I've been counting on you, Minnie. You've been here
so long. You know," he said to his wife, "when I was a little shaver I
thought Minnie had webbed-feet--she was always on the bank, like a duck.
You ARE a duck, Minnie," he says to me; "a nice red-headed duck! Now
don't be quirky and spoil everything."

I couldn't be light-hearted to save my life.

"Your sister's been wild all day," I told Mrs. Dick. "She got your