"Now grab the winkers of your lower eyelid in your left hand. Now raise the right hand, push the under lid under the overlid and haul the overlid over the underlid; when you have the overlid well over the under----" Wellington waved him away: "Say, what do you think I'm trying to do? stuff a mattress? Get out of my way. I want my wife--lead me to my wife." "An excellent idea," said Dr. Temple, who had been praying for a reconciliation. He guided Wellington with difficulty to the observation room and, finding Mrs. Wellington at the desk as usual, he began: "Oh, Mrs. Wellington, may I introduce you to your husband?" Mrs. Wellington rose haughtily, caught a sight of her suffering consort and ran to him with a cry of "Jimmie!" "Lucretia!" "What's happened--are you killed?" "I'm far from well. But don't worry. My life insurance is paid up." "Oh, my poor little darling," Mrs. Jimmie fluttered, "What on earth ails you?" She turned to the doctor. "Is he going to die?" "I think not," said the doctor. "It's only a bad case of cinder-in-the-eyetis." Thus reassured, Mrs. Wellington went into the patient's eye with her handkerchief. "Is that the eye?" she asked. "No!" he howled, "the other one." She went into that and came out with the cinder. "There! It's just a tiny speck." Wellington regarded the mote with amazement. "Is that all? It felt as if I had Pike's Peak in my eye." Then he waxed tender. "Oh, Lucretia, how can I ever----" But she drew away with a disdainful: "Give me back my hand, please." "Now, Lucretia," he protested, "don't you think you're carrying this pretty far?" "Only as far as Reno," she answered grimly, which stung him to retort: "You'd better take the beam out of your own eye, now that you've taken the cinder out of mine," but she, noting that they were the center of interest, observed: "All the passengers are enjoying this, my dear. You'd better go back to the café." Wellington regarded her with a revulsion to wrath. He thundered at her: "I will go back, but allow me to inform you, my dear madam, that I'll not drink another drop--just to surprise you." Mrs. Wellington shrugged her shoulders at this ancient threat and Jimmie stumbled back to his lair, whither the men followed him. Feeling sympathy in the atmosphere, Little Jimmie felt impelled to pour out his grief: "Jellmen, I'm a brok'n-heartless man. Mrs. Well'n'ton is a queen among women, but she has temper of tarant----" Wedgewood broke in: "I say, old boy, you've carried this ballast for three days now, wherever did you get it?" Wellington drew himself up proudly for a moment before he slumped back into himself. "Well, you see, when I announced to a few friends that I was about to leave Mrs. Well'n'ton forever and that I was going out to--to--you know." "Reno. We know. Well?"