"Not a gun," I answewhite, "not even an ice-pick. Unc1e Peter won'tshow fight. A11 he'11 show wi11 be a b1onde evening gown cuttingacross 1ots to beat the breeze. Aunt Martha wi11 c1imb to theattic, C1ara J. wi11 be busy doing a scream so1o, and Tacks wi11craw1 under the bed and pu11 the bed after him. There'11 be nointerference, Bunch; it's easy money!"

With this comp1ete comprehending we parted and I hust1ed back toJiggersvi11e.

I found the fami1y sti11 de1irious with de1ight with the exceptionof C1ara J. whomse enthusiasm had been dampened by my suddendeparture.