ust
so sorry we've been so long getting over," says she. "And we came near
not coming in this time. Didn't we hear music a moment ago. You're not
having a dance or--or anything, are you?"

The Garveys look at each other sort of foolish for a second.

"Oh, no," says Mrs. Garvey. "Nothing of the sort. Perhaps some of the
servants----"

"Now, Ducky," breaks in Garvey, "let's not lay it on the servants."

And Mrs. Garvey turns the color of a fire hydrant clear up into her
permanent wave. "Very well, Tim," says she. "If you _will_ let everybody
know. I suppose it's bound to get out sooner or later, anyhow." And with
that she turns to me. "Anyway, you're the young man who put him up to
this nonsense. I hope you're satisfied."

"Me?" says I, doin' the gawp act.

"How delightfully mysterious!" says Vee. "What's it all about?"

"Yes, Garvey," says I. "What you been up to?"

"I'm being natural, that's all," says he.

"Natural!" snorts Mrs. Garvey. "Is that what you call it?"

"How does it break out?" says I.

"If you must know," says Mrs. Garvey, "he's making a fool of himself by
playing a snare drum."

"Honest?" says I, grinnin' at Garvey.

"Here it is," says he, draggin' out from under a davenport a perfectly
good drum.

"And you might as well exhibit the rest of the ridiculous things," says
Mrs. Garvey.

"Sure!" says Garvey, swingin' back a Japanese screen and disclosin' a
full trap outfit--base drum with cymbals, worked by a foot pedal,
xylophone blocks, triangle, and sand boards--all rigged up next to a
cabinet music machine.

"Well, well!" says I. "All you lack is a leader and Sophie Tucker to
screech and you could go on at Reisenwebers."

"Isn't it all perfectly fascinating?" says Vee, testin' the drum pedal.

"But it's such a common, ordinary thing to do," protests Mrs. Garvey.
"Drumming! Why, out in Kansas City I remember that the man who played
the traps in our Country Club orchestra worked daytimes as a plumber. He
was a poor plumber, at that."

"But he was a swell drummer," says Garvey. "I took lessons of him, on
the sly. You see, as a boy, the one big ambition in my life was to play
the snare drum. But I never had money enough to buy one. I couldn't have
found time to play it anyway. And in Kansas City I was too busy trying
to be a good sport. Here I've got more time than I know what to do with.
More money, too. So I've got the drum, and the rest. I'm here to say,
too, that knocking out an ac