aisse!"

Marie gets busy passin' around bowls and spoons, and the programme
seems to be for the guests to line up while Virgie gives each a helpin'
out of a long-handled silver ladle. It smells mighty good; so I pushes
in with my bowl. What do you guess I drew? A portion of the tastiest
fish soup you ever met, with a lobster claw and a couple of clams in
it. M-m-m-m!

"He may be a punk poet," says I to Whity; "but he's a good provider."

"Huh!" growls Whity, who seems to be sore on account of the hit
Virgie's makin'.

Next thing I knew along drifts Cousin Inez, who has sort of been
crowded away from her hero, and camps down on the other side of Whity.

"Isn't this just too unique for words?" she gushes. "And is not dear
Virgil perfectly charming tonight?"

"Oh, he's a bear at this sort of thing, all right," says Whity, "this
and making cheese."

"Cheese!" echoes Cousin Inez.

"Sure!" says Whity. "Hasn't he told you about his cheese factories?
Ask him."

"But--but I understood that--that he was a poet," says she, "a sculptor
poet."

"Bah!" says Whity. "He couldn't make his salt at either. All just a
pose!"

"Why, I can hardly believe it," says Cousin Inez. "I don't believe it,
either."

"Then read his poetry and look at his so called groups," goes on Whity.

"But he's such a talented, interesting man," insists Inez.

"With such an interesting family too," says Whity, winkin'.

"Family!" gasps Cousin Inez.

"Wife and six children," says Whity, lyin' easy.

"Oh--oh!" squeals Inez in that shrill, raspy voice of hers.

"They say he beats his wife, though," adds Whity.

"Oh!--oh!" squeals Inez, again, higher and shriller than ever. I
expect she'd been more or less keyed up before; but this adds the
finishin' touch. And she lets 'em out reckless.

Course, everyone stops chatterin' and looks her way. No wonder! You'd
thought she was havin' a fit. Over rushes Virgil, ladle in hand.

"My dear Inez!" says he. "What is it? A fishbone?"

"Monster!" she bowls. "Deceiver! Leave me, never let me see your face
again! Oh--oh! Cheese! Six children! Oh--oh!" With that she
tumbles over on Whity and turns purple in the face.

Say, it was some sensation we had there for a few minutes; but after
they'd sprinkled her face, and rubbed her wrists, and poured a couple
of fingers of brandy into her, she revives. And the first thing she
catches sight of is Virgie, standin' there lookin' puzzled,