'late, only the
streaks don't all break out in the same place, which is a mercy, when
you come to think of it. One feller starts tooting a fish horn and
making announcements that he's the Angel Gabriel. Another poor sufferer
shows his first symptom by having his wife's relations come and live
with him. One ends in the asylum and t'other in the poorhouse; that's
the main difference in them cases. Jim Jones fiddles with perpetual
motion and Sam Smith develops a sure plan for busting Wall Street and
getting rich sudden. I take summer boarders maybe, and you collect
postage stamps. Oh, we're all looney, more or less, every one of us.

Speaking of collecting reminds me of the "Antiquers"--that's what Peter
T. Brown called 'em. They put up at the Old Home House--summer before
last; and at a crank show they'd have tied for the blue ribbon. There
was the Dowager and the Duchess and "My Daughter" and "Irene dear."
Likewise there was Thompson and Small, but they, being nothing but
husbands and fathers, didn't count for much first along, except when
board was due or "antiques" had to be settled for.

The Dowager fetched port first. She hove alongside the Old Home one
morning early in July, and she had "My Daughter" in tow. The names, as
entered on the shipping list, was Mrs. Milo Patrick Thompson and Miss
Barbara Millicent Thompson, but Peter T. Brown he had 'em re-entered as
"The Dowager" and "My Daughter" almost as soon as they dropped anchor.
Thompson himself come poking up to the dock on the following Saturday
night; Peter didn't christen him, except to chuck out something about
Milo's being an "also ran."

The Dowager was skipper of the Thompson craft, with "My
daughter"--that's what her ma always called her--as first mate, and Milo
as general roustabout and purser.

'Twould have done you good to see the fleet run into the breakfast room
of a morning, with the Dowager leading, under full sail, Barbara close
up to her starboard quarter, and Milo tailing out a couple of lengths
astern. The other boarders looked like quahaug dories abreast of the
Marblehead Yacht Club. Oh, the Thompsons won every cup until the Smalls
arrived on a Monday; then 'twas a dead heat.

Mamma Small was built on the lines of old lady Thompson, only more so,
and her daughter flew pretty nigh as many pennants as Barbara. Peter
T. had 'em labeled the "Duchess" and "Irene dear" in a jiffy. He didn't
nickname Small any more'n he had Thompson, and for the