l that; but when
it came to springin' the programme on Clifford he runs on a snag.
Somewhere back of them squirrel teeth and under the soft hat there was a
streak of mule. Cliffy balks at the whole business. He's a whole lot
obliged, but he really don't care for comp'ny. Goin' around alone and
not havin' his thoughts sidetracked by some one taggin' along is what he
likes better'n anything else. He's always done it in Bubble Creek and
never got into any trouble before--that is, none to speak of. But he'll
promise to cut out janitors and cab drivers.

As for the ear muffs, he couldn't think of partin' with them. For years
he's been puttin' them on the first of December and wearin' 'em until
the last of March, and he'd feel lost without 'em, just the same as he
would without the umbrella. Yes, he knew it wa'n't common; but that
didn't bother him at all.

Right there I gets a new line on Clifford. He's one of these guys that
throws a bluff at bein' modest; but when you scratch him deep you gets
next to the fact that he's dead sure he's a genius and is anxious to
prove it by the way he wears his clothes. There's a lot of that kind
that shows themselves off every night at the fifty-cent table d'hote
places; but I never knew any of 'em ever came in from so far west as
Bubble Creek.

Mr. Robert wa'n't on, though. He still freezes to the notion that
Cousin Clifford's just a well-meanin', corn-fed innocent; so before he
turns him loose again he gives him a lot of good advice about not
gettin' tangled up with strangers. Cliffy smiles kind of condescendin'
and tells Mr. Robert he needn't worry a bit.

With that off he goes; but every time the telephone rings that forenoon
me and Mr. Robert gets nervous. We don't hear a word from him, though,
and by three o'clock we're hopin' for the best.

Then Aunt Julie shows up. She's a large, elegant old girl, all got up in
Persian lamb and a fur hat with seven kinds of sealin' wax fruit on it.
She's just in from Palm Beach, and she's heard that Brother Henry's boy
is here on a visit.

"He was such a cute little dear when he was a baby!" says she.

"He's changed," says Mr. Robert.

"Of course," says Aunt Julie. "I do want to see if he's grown up to look
like Henry, as I said he would, or like his mother. Where is he now,
Robert?"

"Heaven only knows!" says he. "It would suit me best if he was on his
way back to Michigan."

"Why, Robert!" says Aunt Julie. "And Clifford the only cous