“I have no intention of saying anything nasty about my wife’s brother,” retorted Mr. Gooch. “I know all about you,” said Mr. Sikes, replacing his cigar and scowling darkly. “I’ve heard Ollie speak of you a hundred times. He ain’t got any use for you.” “Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Gooch. “Well, I don’t mind telling you,” said Mr. Gooch, bridling, “I haven’t any use for him. I never did take any stock in brother-in-laws, anyhow, and that’s why I’ve never had anything to do with Baxter. You can tell him—” “I guess you’re forgettin’ that you are a brother-in-law yourself, ain’t you?” interrupted Mr. Sikes, with a most offensive snigger. “Are you trying to pick a quarrel with my husband?” “As I said before,” explained Mr. Sikes, “I am Ollie Baxter’s best friend, and I certainly ain’t going to allow anybody like a brother-in-law to come in here at a time like this and get off any insinuations. This is the happiest day of Ollie Baxter’s life—that is, it will be when he gets his right senses back—and it ain’t going to be spoiled, not even behind his back, if I can help it. Especially by a brother-in-law.” “The man has been drinking,” said Mrs. Gooch, sniffing the air. “You’re right,” confessed Joseph promptly. “I’ve had a couple of good swigs out of this pint, and I’m proud of it. It helps me to say what I think about people that Ollie Baxter don’t like. I’ve been waitin’ for nearly ten years to tell you what I think of you, Mr. Gooch, for the way you acted toward Ollie when he tried to get his sister here to help pay for a tombstone for their father’s grave, and you—” “I’ll thank you to mind your own business,” exclaimed Mr. Gooch loudly. “I don’t want to be thanked for it,” shouted Mr. Sikes. “It’s my business to tell you a few things about yourself, so don’t thank me.” “Oh, my goodness!” wailed Mrs. Gooch. “In my own brother’s house, too. I never was so insulted in all my life. Oliver! Oliver, where are you? Come down here and order this man out of your house.” “No use yellin’ for Oliver,” said Mr. Sikes. “He won’t hear you.” Then he swallowed hard. “Come to think of it, I guess I ought to apologize, ma’am. Which I hereby do. I haven’t had much sleep lately, worrying over this joyous occasion, and I guess I’m a bit crusty. I hereby welcome you to Ollie’s house, speaking in his place, and ask you to have a chair over here by the stove. You can sit down too if you want to, Mr. Gooch. To show you there’s no hard feelings on this joyous occasion, I’ll even go so far as to ask you to have a drink out of this bottle. It’s—” “My husband does not drink,” said Mrs. Gooch, stiffly. “You might let him off just this once,” pleaded Mr. Sikes, tactlessly. Horace Gooch frowned. “I’ve never touched a drop of intoxicating liquid in my life, sir.” Sikes opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, choked the words off, and then offered the following substitute: “Terrible weather for this time of year, ain’t it?”