“Ke----” began the lawyer, thoughtlessly, caught himself in time, and changed the syllable to the similitude of a sneeze. “Ke-chew! Ke-chew!” He sneezed again, as though an encore might confer verisimilitude. Ho Ha did not appear to suspect the sneeze. “I s’pose that cussed brother of mine got a share,” Ho Ha meditated aloud. “The wonder is he didn’t get mine, too.” Mermaid mixed her drinks recklessly, following a pineapple ice cream soda with a raspberry. It was before the day of the more fanciful concoctions or Mermaid would have had a week of sundaes. “What are you going to do, Uncle Ho?” she inquired with the interest that, from a young woman, is always so flattering to a man, even an uncle. “Oh, I guess I’ll build a little shack on the beach and put the rest in the bank,” Ho Ha told her. “I didn’t mean what are you going to do with the money, but what are you going to do with yourself?” Hosea twinkled. “P’raps I’ll marry,” he hinted. “Now if I was only a young man----” He looked at her roguishly. “It’s never too late to marry,” Mermaid said, between spoonfuls. “But if you’re going to marry you won’t want a shack on the beach--or your wife won’t, which amounts to the same thing.” Ho Ha nodded repeatedly. “I don’t want to marry the first woman that proposes to me,” he announced with his most sagacious air. “I might advertise, eh?” They strolled down the street together until they reached Keturah Smiley’s. Mermaid commanded her uncle to enter. Keturah was making a batch of cookies in the kitchen. “Come in, Hosea,” she said, cordially. “Child, if Dickie Hand comes here this evening, do for goodness’ sake make the boy eat yesterday’s crullers so we can have a taste of these cookies ourselves. I declare, Hosea, I don’t know what my own cake tastes like any longer.” “I do,” said Ho Ha, looking at her attentively. “Have one,” said Keturah, slightly flustered by the look he gave her. Could he have learned anything? Ho Ha fell silent a moment, and then after several mouthfuls said: “You were always a great hand for relationships, Keturah. Can you tell me who this cousin was that’s left me some money?” Miss Smiley faced away from him and began energetically stowing her batch in a cake box. “I don’t know, Hosea,” she answered. “I never could keep track of your relations.” “I don’t believe this cousin was a relation,” said Ha Ha. “I never heard of any relations except poor relations. Most likely this was some conscience-stricken person, repenting of evil gains----” “Nonsense!” exclaimed Miss Smiley with an emphasis and a touch of indignation that seemed unnecessary. “She had as clear a conscience as some others, I guess.” “Oh, so ’twas a woman?” observed Ho Ha, innocently. “Well, now, that’s funny. I can’t think of any _woman_----” “I didn’t say ’twas a woman,” parried Keturah. “She or he or whoever it was probably had more than she--he--knew what to do with. Left to the next of kin. It’s a common thing.”