“Now suppose I kiss you right on your dear little bald spot, and that we make up our minds not to go to that horrid sulphur place at all. Everybody says that it is old-fashioned and stupid; and that is not the kind of an American watering-place that I want to see, you know. It would have been all very well if we’d gone there while I was in mourning, and had to be proper and quiet and retired, and all that; but I’m not in mourning any longer, Uncle Hutchinson--and you haven’t said yet how you like this breakfast gown. Do you have to be told that white lace over pale-blue silk is very becoming to your angel niece, Uncle Hutchinson? And now you shall have your kiss, and then the matter will be settled.” With which words Miss Lee--a somewhat bewildering but unquestionably delightful effect in blond and blue--fluttered up to her elderly relative, embraced him with a graceful energy, and bestowed upon his bald spot the promised kiss. “But--but indeed, my dear,” responded Mr. Port, when he had emerged from Miss Lee’s enfolding arms, “you know that going to the White Sulphur is not a mere matter of pleasure with me; it is one of hygienic necessity. You forget, Dorothy”--Mr. Port spoke with a most earnest seriousness--“you forget my liver.” “Now, Uncle Hutchinson, what is the use of talking about your liver that way? Haven’t you told me a great many times already that it is an hereditary liver, and that nothing you can do to it ever will make it go right? And if it is bound to go wrong anyway, why can’t you just try to forget all about it and have as pleasant a time as possible? That’s the doctrine that I always preached to poor dear mamma--she had an hereditary liver too, you know--and it’s a very good one. “Anyhow, I’ve heard mamma say countless times that Saratoga was a wonderfully good place for livers; now why can’t we go there? Mamma always said that Saratoga was simply delightful--horse-racing going on all the time, and lovely drives, and rowing on the lake, and dancing all night long, and all sorts of lovely things. Let’s go to Saratoga, Uncle Hutchinson! Mamma said that the food there was delicious--and you know you always are grumbling about the food those sulphur people give you.