rained. Somehow she couldn't seem to tear them three August days
completely off the calendar; and when the other chappies come buzzin'
around, and she had a chance to frame 'em up alongside of this fish
island hero, there wa'n't but one answer. It was Hermes for hers, every
day in the week!

There he was, though, out on that mussy rock; and here she was, visitin'
in New York, leadin' the giddy life, and gettin' her gowns ready for the
Horse Show. If Millie had passed out the heartaches casual along her
former trails, here was where she gets at least one of 'em back on the
rebound.

You can guess how bad an attack she had when she crosses all the new
Reggie boys off her string and cooks up this scheme of sendin' for
Hermes to come to her. Her excuse is that she wants Uncle Jerry to have
the trip of his life by coming to the great city; but incident'lly she
urges him to bring his blue eyed nephew along, and the check she sends
is big enough to cover expenses for both. Bein' one of the impulsive
kind, she does it the minute the notion strikes her; and two days later
comes this postal from Uncle Jerry, sayin' how he was much obliged, and
him and his nevvy was takin' the boat for Bosting and expected to fetch
up in New York sometime next afternoon by train.

"Which is now," says Mildred. "But of course I can't go to the Grand
Central to meet him."

"Why not?" says I. "Why balk at a little thing like that when you've
been doin' so well?"

"Oh, but, Torchy," chimes in Marjorie, "you know you could do it so much
better!"

And what with both of them coaxin', and stuffin' expense money into my
pockets, the next thing I know I'm on my way down to where the Boston
trains come in, and am campin' outside the gate. I nearly wore my eyes
out, too, sizin' up the first trainload, and after an hour's wait I was
gettin' dizzy keepin' track of the second lot, when all of a sudden I
spots this old chap with the thick underbrush over his eyes and the sole
leather complexion.

"Oh, you Uncle Jerry!" I sings out, takin' a chance and pushin' through
the crowd with my hand out.

"Wall, how be ye?" says he, real hearty. "Don't remember seein' you
afore; but I s'pose it's all right."

"Sure it is, old scout," says I. "If you're Uncle Jerry, I'm Miss
Mildred's reception committee; but where's the nephew?"

"That's him," says he, jerkin' his thumb at a big, overgrown, tow haired
yawp that's trailin' along in the rear luggin' a canvas val