Selma shakes her head solemn as her mighty Swedish intellect struggles to surround the situation. "Meesis she dress by supper in den room yet," says she. "Such sadness!" says I. "Maybe there's nobody but Miss Vee downstairs?" "_Ja_," says Selma, starin' stupid. "Not nobody else but Miss Verona, no." "You're a bright girl--from the feet down," says I, pushin' in past her. "Shut the door easy so as not to disturb Aunty, and I'll try to cheer up Miss Verona until she comes down. She's in the lib'ry, eh?" Yep, I was doin' my best. We'd exchanged the greetin's of the season and was camped cozy in a corner davenport just big enough for two, while I was explainin' how tough it was not havin' her along for the drive, and I'd collected one of her hands casual, pattin' it sort of absent-minded, when--say, no trained bloodhound has anything on Aunty! There she is, standin' rigid between the double doors glarin' at us accusin'. "So you returned after all that, did you?" she demands. "I didn't know but you might want to tack on a postscript," says I. "Young man," says she, just as friendly as a Special Sessions Judge callin' the prisoner to the bar, "you are quite right. And I wish to say to you now, in the presence of my niece, that----" "Now, Aunty! Please!" breaks in Verona, shruggin' her shoulders expressive. "Verona, kindly be silent," goes on Aunty. "This young person known as Torchy has----" When in drifts Selma and sticks out the silver card plate like she was presentin' arms. "What is it?" asks Aunty. "Oh!" Then she inspects the names. For half a minute she stands there, glancin' from me to the cards undecided, and I expect if she could have electrocuted me with a look I'd have sizzled once or twice and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. But her voltage wa'n't quite high enough for that. Instead she turns to Selma and gives some quick orders. "Draw these draperies," says she; "then show in the guests. As for you, young man, wait!" "Gee!" I whispers, as we're shut in. "I wish I knew how to draw up a will." Vee snickers. "Silly!" says she. "Whatever have you been saying to Aunty now?" "Me?" says I. "Why, not much. Just a little chat about fam'ly trees and so on, durin' which she----" Then the arrival chatter in the next room breaks loose, and I stops sudden, starin' at the closed portieres with my mouth open. "Hello!" says I. "Listen who's here!" "Who?" says Vee. "That's so," says I. "You don't know 'em, do you? Well, this adds thickenin' to the plot for fair. Remember hearin' me tell of Aunt Zenobia and her new hubby? Well, that's 'em." "How odd!" says Vee. "But--why, I've heard his voice before! It was at--oh, I know! The nice old gentleman who had the villa next to ours at Mentone." "Ballard?" I suggests. "That's it!" says Vee. "And you say he is----" "My Uncle Kyrle," says I. "My reg'lar uncle, you know." "Why, Torchy!" gasps Vee, grabbin' me by the arm. "Then--then you----"