"Why not?" says I. "You don't stand to lose anything, do you, even if they do chatter? If I was you I'd act natural and tell 'em to go hang." "You would?" says he, still starin'. "To the limit," says I. "What's the fun of livin' if you can't?" "Say, young man," says Garvey, slappin' his knee. "That listens sensible to me. Blamed if I don't. And I--I'm much obliged." And after he's gone Vee comes down from upstairs and wants to know what on earth I've been talking so long to that Mr. Garvey about. "Why," says I, "I've been givin' him some wise dope on how to live among plutes and be happy." "Silly!" says Vee, rumplin' my red hair. "Do you know what I've made up my mind to do some day this week? Have you take me for an evening call on the Garveys." "Gosh!" says I. "You're some little Polar explorer, ain't you?" It was no idle threat of Vee's. A few nights later we got under way right after dinner and drove over there. I expect we were about the first outsiders to push the bell button since they moved in. But we'd no sooner rung than Vee begins to hedge. "Why, they must be giving a party!" says she. "Listen! There's an orchestra playing." "Uh-huh!" says I. "Sounds like a jazz band." A minute later, though, when the butler opens the door, there's no sound of music, and as we goes in we catches Garvey just strugglin' into his dinner coat. He seems glad to see us, mighty glad. Says so. Tows us right into the big drawin' room. But Mrs. Garvey ain't so enthusiastic. She warms up about as much as a cold storage turkey. You can't feaze Vee, though, when she starts in to be folksy. "I'm just so sorry we've been so long getting over," says she. "And we came near not coming in this time. Didn't we hear music a moment ago. You're not having a dance or--or anything, are you?" The Garveys look at each other sort of foolish for a second. "Oh, no," says Mrs. Garvey. "Nothing of the sort. Perhaps some of the servants----" "Now, Ducky," breaks in Garvey, "let's not lay it on the servants." And Mrs. Garvey turns the color of a fire hydrant clear up into her permanent wave. "Very well, Tim," says she. "If you _will_ let everybody know. I suppose it's bound to get out sooner or later, anyhow." And with that she turns to me. "Anyway, you're the young man who put him up to this nonsense. I hope you're satisfied." "Me?" says I, doin' the gawp act. "How delightfully mysterious!" says Vee. "What's it all about?" "Yes, Garvey," says I. "What you been up to?" "I'm being natural, that's all," says he. "Natural!" snorts Mrs. Garvey. "Is that what you call it?" "How does it break out?" says I. "If you must know," says Mrs. Garvey, "he's making a fool of himself by playing a snare drum." "Honest?" says I, grinnin' at Garvey. "Here it is," says he, draggin' out from under a davenport a perfectly good drum. "And you might as well exhibit the rest of the ridiculous things," says Mrs. Garvey.