You might call it time out, or suspended hostilities durin' peace negotiations, or anything like that. Anyway, Aunty has softened up to the extent of lettin' me come around once a week without makin' me assume a disguise, or crawl in through the coal chute. Course I'm still under suspicion; but while the ban ain't lifted complete she don't treat me quite so much like a porch climber or a free speech agitator. "Remember," says she, "Friday evenings only, from half after eight until not later than ten." "Yes'm," says I, "and it's mighty----" "Please!" she breaks in. "No grotesquely phrased effusions of gratitude. I am merely indulging Verona in one of her absurd whims. You understand that, I trust?" "I get your idea," says I, "and even if it don't swell my chest any, I'm----" "Kindly refrain from using such patois," says Aunty. "Eh?" says I. "You mean ditch the gabby talk? All right, Ma'am." Aunty rolls her eyes and sighs hopeless. "How my niece can find entertainment in such----" Here Aunty stops and shrugs her shoulders. "Well," she goes on, "it is a mystery to me." "Me too," says I; "so for once we're playin' on the same side of the net, ain't we! Say, but she's some girl though!" Aunty's mouth corners wrinkle into one of them sarcastic smiles that's her specialty, and she remarks careless: "Quite a number of young men seem to have discovered that Verona is rather attractive." "They'd have to be blind in both eyes and born without ears if they didn't," says I, "believe me!" Oh, yes, we had a nice confidential little chat, me and Aunty did,--almost chummy, you know,--and as it breaks up and I backs out into the hall, givin' her the polite "Good evenin', Ma'am," I thought I heard a half-smothered snicker behind the draperies. Maybe it was that flossy French maid of theirs. But I floats downtown as gay and chirky as though I'd been promoted to first vice-president of something. Course I was wise to the fact that Aunty wa'n't arrangin' any duo act with the lights shaded soft. Not her! Even if I had an official ratin' in the Corrugated now, and a few weeks back had shunted her off from a losin' stock deal, she wa'n't tryin' to decoy me into the fam'ly. Hardly! I could guess how she'd set the stage for my weekly call, and if I found myself with anything more than a walk-on part in a mob scene I'd be lucky. You know she's taken a house for the winter, one of them old-fashioned brownstone fronts up on Madison-ave. that some friends of hers was goin' to close durin' a tour abroad. Nothin' swell, but real comfy and substantial, and as I marches up bold for my first push at the bell button I'm kind of relieved that I don't have to stand in line.