"Sure!" says Whity. "Hasn't he told you about his cheese factories? Ask him." "But--but I understood that--that he was a poet," says she, "a sculptor poet." "Bah!" says Whity. "He couldn't make his salt at either. All just a pose!" "Why, I can hardly believe it," says Cousin Inez. "I don't believe it, either." "Then read his poetry and look at his so called groups," goes on Whity. "But he's such a talented, interesting man," insists Inez. "With such an interesting family too," says Whity, winkin'. "Family!" gasps Cousin Inez. "Wife and six children," says Whity, lyin' easy. "Oh--oh!" squeals Inez in that shrill, raspy voice of hers. "They say he beats his wife, though," adds Whity. "Oh!--oh!" squeals Inez, again, higher and shriller than ever. I expect she'd been more or less keyed up before; but this adds the finishin' touch. And she lets 'em out reckless. Course, everyone stops chatterin' and looks her way. No wonder! You'd thought she was havin' a fit. Over rushes Virgil, ladle in hand. "My dear Inez!" says he. "What is it? A fishbone?" "Monster!" she bowls. "Deceiver! Leave me, never let me see your face again! Oh--oh! Cheese! Six children! Oh--oh!" With that she tumbles over on Whity and turns purple in the face. Say, it was some sensation we had there for a few minutes; but after they'd sprinkled her face, and rubbed her wrists, and poured a couple of fingers of brandy into her, she revives. And the first thing she catches sight of is Virgie, standin' there lookin' puzzled, still holdin' the soup ladle. "Monster!" she hisses at him. "I know all--all! And I quit you forever!" With that she dashes for the cloakroom, grabs her opera wrap, and beats it for the elevator. Course, that busts up the show, and inside of half an hour everybody but us has left, and most of 'em went out snickerin'. "I--I don't understand it at all," says Virgie, rubbin' his eyes dazed. "She was talking with you, wasn't she, Friend Whity? Was it something you said about me?" "Possibly," says Whity, "I may have mentioned your cheese factories; and I'm not sure but what I didn't invent a family for you. Just as a joke, of course. You don't mind, I hope?" And at that I was dead sure someone was goin' to be slapped on the wrist. But, say, all Virgie does is swallow hard a couple of times; and then, as the full scheme of the plot seems to sink in, he beams mushy.