But pipe dreams like that don't often come true, do they? I ain't got so far as ownin' a pair of gray gloves, and not a word has been said about makin' me vice president, when along comes this foreign picture postcard, showin' the Boss de Bologna on one side, and on the other this scribbled message: We sail for home on the 10th. Rah! Rah! Count Schlegelhessen is coming over with us. He's a dear. V. A. H. Jolted! Say, I was up and down so many times durin' the next few hours I'd most meet myself comin' and goin'. Miss Vee was on her way over! I'd bounce at that thought, and get all kind of warmed up inside. Count Schutzenfest is coming with her, and he's a dear! Bang! I'd strike bottom again, with a chilly feelin' under my vest. Wa'n't anything more'n I might have looked for, of course. Aunty's one of the kind that would pick out a Count for Miss Vee, and there was plenty of Counts over there to be picked; but somehow I couldn't picture Vee goin' wild over one of them foreign ginks. It was clear she had, though. There it was on the postcard, "He's a dear!" "Huh!" thinks I. "Most of 'em are dear--at any price." It wa'n't for hours, either, that I simmers down enough for the thought to strike me that I didn't have any special license to hold a court of inquiry over whether Miss Vee was comin' back with a Count or not. After that I had time to debate with myself whether I ought just to forgive and forget, goin' through life cold and sad; or if I should hide my busted heart the best way I could and pretend I didn't care. Was there any use in my goin' down to the pier and standin' in the background to watch her come ashore with her dear Count? I could see myself! Oh, yes, I had it all doped out along them lines! As Robert Mantell would put it over, "She has went out of muh life for-r-r-rever." Ah yes! I could have stood for anything but one of them sausage Counts. So I stows her picture away in the bottom bureau drawer, burns the postcard, and dodges Zenobia's eye when she looks at me curious. It was all over. Yet I knew to an hour when her steamer would dock, and the mornin' of the day it was due I rolls out of the feathers at six A.M. Just as natural as could be too, I gets out the new safety razor I'd had hid away for a couple of months past, and inside of fifteen minutes I'd had my first shave. Does that get by them keen eyes of Zenobia! Not for a minute! "Ah!" says she, pattin' me sort of casual on one cheek as she comes down to breakfast. That's all; but she not only takes in the shave, but the best blue serge suit I've put on, and the birthday tie, and the Sunday shoes. I only grins sheepish and slides out as soon as I can. You see, accordin' to my plans, I wouldn't have gone near that steamer for any sum you could name. That being the case, it was odd I should call up the pier and find out if the boat was on time at Quarantine. Also it was some strange the way I opened up on Piddie.