The next round was some salad which Ollie had dressed in the kitchen, but the dress was such a bad fit that nobody could look at it without blushing. Then we had some home-made ice cream for desert. The ice was very good, but Ollie forgot to add the cream, so it tasted rather insipid. Every time there was a lull in the conversation Charlie Swayne kept yelling for a Bronx cocktail, and the only thing that kept him from getting it was the fact that Riley Hatch wanted to tell the story of his life. Anyway, the dinner came to a finish without anybody fainting, and the guests went home, a little hungry but unpoisoned. The next morning my wife spoke bitterly to Ollie and she left us, followed by the Thanksgiving prayers of all those present. The only thing about the house that loved Ollie was a pair of earrings belonging to my wife, and they went with her. CHAPTER III JOHN HENRY ON PATRIOTISM Uncle Peter spent the Fourth of July at his old home in Ohio. I must show you a letter he wrote me a few days after that noisy event. Dear John: We had a nice quiet time on the Fourth with the exception of my ankle, which was somewhat dislocated because my foot stepped on an infant bombshell which same exploded for my benefit. I like the idea of the Fourth with the exception of the noise. I believe that if our forefathers had suspected that their great-grandchildren would make such an infernal racket on the Fourth of July they would have waited for a snow storm on the 16th of January before signing their John Hancocks, because then it would be too cold to explode firecrackers under your neighbor's eyebrows when he least expects it. We had a nice quiet time at home on the Fourth, John, with the exception that little Oscar Maddy, who lives next door, presented me with a Roman candle which joined me between the third button on my waistcoat and the solar plexus. I acknowledged the receipt by falling off the front step and barking my shoulder. You should always remember, John, that the Fourth is the day when your patriotic voice should climb out of your thorax and make the welkin ring, but it isn't really necessary to get up a row between a stick of dynamite and a keg of giant powder to prove that you love the cause of liberty. You will find that some of our best citizens--men who love liberty with an everlasting love--are hiding in the cellar with both hands over their ears from July 3d to July 5th. We had a nice quiet time at home on the Fourth, John, with the exception that your second cousin, Randolph, tried to explode a toy cannon and removed the apex of his thumb and about half of the dining-room window. It may be necessary to celebrate the birth of freedom by bursting forth into noise, but my idea, John, is that Old Glory would like it much better if we were more subdued and kept our children on the earth instead of letting them go up in the air in small fragments.