Aunt Gretchen fixed her accusing eyes upon me to the exclusion of everyone else. Her button of a chin quivered. "Please understand, Homer--I'm not criticizing. Things have gotten past that stage. I've merely come to report that the house is filling up with an astounding assortment of characters. Johnson resigned a half-hour ago. But before he left, he suggested a man who could handle the situation far better than he himself. A man named Frank Buck." "But, my dear aunt," I protested. "There must be some mistake. I did not invite any unusual people to this reception. I issued only three invitations. I invited Willie Shank, who could not come because of a dispute with the police over the ownership of a car he was driving yesterday; John Smith, who could not come because this is the day he reports to the parole board, and my good friend Bag Ears Mulligan." "How did you happen to overlook Red Nose Tessie?" Joy asked. "The poor woman is emotional. She does not enjoy wedding receptions. She weeps." "So does Aunt Gretchen," Joy observed. Aunt Gretchen was indeed weeping--quietly, under the blanket of reserve with which the Nicholases cover their emotions. I was about to comfort her when she turned and fled. I started to run after her but decided against it and returned to Joy. "Perhaps," I said, "we had better investigate this strange turn of events. Possibly our reception has been crashed by some undesirable persons." "Impossible," Joy replied. "But it might be fun to look them over. Shall we have a quick one first--just to stiffen the old spine a bit?" It sounded like a good suggestion so we stiffened our spines with what was left in the bottle, and quitted the conservatory. * * * * * Back in the house, one thing became swiftly apparent. We had guests who were utter strangers to me. But it was Bag Ears who summed up the situation with the briefest possible statement. "Jees!" he ejaculated. "It's a crooks' convention!" "You can identify some of these intruders?" "If you mean do I know 'em, the answer is without a doubt, pal. Somehow, the whole Cement Mixer Zinsky mob has infiltered into the joint." "Cement Mixer Zinsky," Joy murmured. "Another of those odd names." "It's on account of he invented something. Zinsky was the first gee to think up a very novel way of getting rid of people that crowd you. He got the idea to mix up a tub of cement--place the unwanted character's feet in same and then throw the whole thing into the lake. Result--no more crowding by that guy." "He was the first one who thought of it? A sort of trail blazer." "Of course Cement Mixer is a big shot now and his boys take care of things like that. But sometimes he goes along to mix the cement--just to keep his hand in you might say." "A sentimentalist no doubt." "No doubt," Bag Ears agreed. I patted Joy's hand and said, "Don't be alarmed, darling. I will take care of everything."