theories.

Now when the artist mentioned the big case Mr. Wing could not conceal
his triumph, for _his_ theory had been right after all, and the artist's
had been wrong. "It's exactly what I expected," he said jubilantly, and
spoke in a low, confidential tone for some minutes.

The artist whistled in blank surprise.

The two men passed up the street, talking in low tones. "Come up to the
house with me," said Mr. Wing presently, "and I'll show you--Hello,
what's this?"

A creaking rumble behind them made them start and turn around, and a
singular sight greeted their eyes. Down the street puffed an immensely
fat negro woman clad in a calico wrapper and a bright red turban,
pushing a wheelbarrow in which sat a negro baby somewhat larger than its
mammy. In the wheelbarrow beside the baby stood a feeding bottle of
gigantic proportions, being in very truth a three-gallon flask designed
to hold a solution to spray trees with; six feet of garden hose
constituted the tube, and a black rubber diving cap at the upper end of
it completed the feeding apparatus.

"_Pour l'amour de Mique!_" laughed Mr. Wing, as the unique outfit
rumbled by. "What on earth do you suppose _that_ is?" They followed the
progress of the billowing mother and her husky infant with amused eyes,
and at the corner of the street she attempted to turn the barrow, ran
into a stone, upset the barrow and spilled the infant on the ground.
The infant immediately sprang up, clutching the Gargantuan feeding
bottle, and berated his mother in emphatic terms, delivered in a deep
bass voice, addressing her as "Captain." "Look out, you'll break the
bottle, dumping the wheelbarrow over like that," he remarked warningly.
The old mammy stooped over to readjust him in the barrow and as she did
so several feet of masculine garments became visible under her short
skirt.

"Minstrel show in town," remarked Mr. Wing with another laugh of
amusement. His amusement turned to surprise when the picturesque pair
preceded him up the street and turned in at his own yard. The house was
lighted from one end to the other; groups of young people were visible
everywhere, on the porches, on the lawn, in the doorways.

"Seems to be a party going on here," remarked Mr. Wing.

"Father!" exclaimed a voice from the crowd, and Agony darted forward to
embrace him. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming? You're just in
time for the party."

Mr. Wing greeted the guests affably and after a short