"That's a joke, is it?" says she. "If it is, Ha, ha! Excuse me if I don't laugh real hearty. I can do better when I don't feel so much like a sponge. Maizie May Blickens is my name, and this is Euphemia Blickens." "Ah!" says I. "Sisters?" "Do we look it?" says Maizie. "No! First cousins on the whiskered side. Ever hear that name Blickens before?" "Why--er--why----" says I, scratchin' my head. "Don't dig too deep," says Maizie. "How about Blickens' skating rink in Kansas City?" "Oh!" says I. "Was it run by a gent they called Sport Blickens?" "It was," says she. "Why, sure," I goes on. "And the night I had my match there with the Pedlar, when I'd spent my last bean on a month's trainin' expenses, and the Pedlar's backer was wavin' a thousand-dollar side bet under my nose, this Mr. Blickens chucked me his roll and told me to call the bluff." "Yes, that was dad, all right," says Maizie. "It was?" says I. "Well, well! Now if there's anything I can do for----" "Whoa up!" says Maizie. "This is no grubstake touch. Let's get that off our minds first, though I'm just as much obliged. It's come out as dad said. Says he, 'If you're ever up against it, and can locate Shorty McCabe, you go to him and say who you are.' But this isn't exactly that kind of a case. Phemey and I may look a bit rocky and---- Say, how do we look, anyway? Have you got such a thing as a----" "Tidson," says Sadie, breakin' in, "you may roll in the pier glass for the young lady." Course, that reminds me I ain't done the honors. "Excuse me," says I. "Miss Blickens, this is Mrs. McCabe." "Howdy," says Maizie. "I was wondering if it wasn't about due. Goshety gosh! but you're all to the peaches, eh? And me----" Here she turns and takes a full length view of herself. "Suffering scarecrows! Say, why didn't you put up the bars on us? Don't you look, Phemey; you'd swallow your gum!" But Euphemia ain't got any idea of turnin' her head. She has them peaceful eyes of hers glued to Sadie's copper hair, and she's contented to yank away at her cud. For a consistent and perseverin' masticator, she has our friend Fletcher chewed to a standstill. Maizie is soon satisfied with her survey. "That'll do, take it away," says she. "If I ever get real stuck on myself, I'll have something to remember. But, as I was sayin', this is no case of an escape from the poor farm. We wore these Hetty Green togs when we left Dobie." "Dobie?" says I. "Go on, laugh!" says Maizie. "Dobie's the biggest joke and the slowest four corners in the State of Minnesota, and that's putting it strong. Look at Phemey; she's a native." Well, we looked at Phemey. Couldn't help it. Euphemia don't seem to mind. She don't even grin; but just goes on workin' her jaws and lookin' placid.