The twins and their brides were occupying enormous suites at one of the big hotels, pending the completion of a new and exclusive apartment building in Fifth Avenue. They had been in town but a week when Courtney and the Grand Duchess returned from Virginia Hot Springs, where they had spent November. Old Mr. Van Winkle was just out of the hospital after a second operation: an adhesion. He was really unfit for the trip up town from the old Van Winkle mansion; nevertheless, he made it rather than disappoint his new--(I use the word provisionally)--daughter-in-law, who had set her heart upon having the family see what she had bought. I am not quite certain that she didn't include Corky in the exhibit. There were introductions all around. Mr. Van Winkle, senior, was presented to his mother-in-law and to his sisters, and, somewhat facetiously, to his father-in-law, his brothers, his sons and his daughters. Corky had the pleasure of meeting his three sons-in-law, his three daughters-in-law, his two sisters, his brothers, his father and his granddaughters-in-law. The twins--but why continue? Puzzles of this character provide pleasure for those who choose to work them out for themselves, and no doubt many who have followed the course of this narrative are to be classed among them. Of course, in his own home Corky sat at the head of the table, but it is not to be assumed that he was the undisputed head of the family, although he may have advanced claims to the distinction because of his position as father-in-law to every one else of the name. Mr. Van Winkle, pere, jocosely offered to relinquish the honour to his son, and the twins vociferously shouted their approval. "You are the oldest member of the family by marriage, Corky," said Jeff, and was rewarded by a venomous stare from his joint mother-and-sister-in-law. "How you talk!" said the Grand Duchess, suddenly remembering her lorgnette. The stare became intensified. "Isn't the house attractive, Mr. Van Winkle?" she asked, turning to the old gentleman, with a mirthless smile. "Are you addressing me, my dear, as your son-in-law or as your father-in-law?" enquired Mr. Van Winkle. "Why do you ask?" she demanded. "Because if you are speaking to me as your son, I prefer to be called Bleecker." "Stuff and nonsense, Mr. Van Winkle! Why, I scarcely know you." "Won't you tell me your Christian name? I can't very well go about calling my daughter MISSIS Van Winkle." "Minervy--I mean Minerva. Of course, I shall expect you to call me Minerva. I--I suppose it is only right that I should call you Bleecker. Isn't it an odd situation?" "I should say so," put in Rip. "I'll have to give up calling you father, Bleecker. You are my brother now." "I don't think we should carry a joke too far," said his father severely. "It's no joke," said Kip. "Is it, Father Corky?" "See here, confound you, don't get funny," snapped Corky from the head of the table. "You forget the servants."