"Make mine a small one," I admonished; "I've had a busy day." "This is a cure for all your business worries," she gurgled. "Guess what, John! We sail for Europe next Wednesday!" "Poor Peaches!" I said sympathetically; "that's what you get for drinking too much tea." "I mean it seriously, John!" she cried eagerly. "Uncle Peter has booked passages on the Oceanic for the whole family, and he is going to pay all the expenses for a three months' trip." "Water! water!" I gasped faintly, and I meant it, but Peaches thought I was only cutting up. "I knew you'd be delighted," she capered on; "and it was all I could do to keep from telling you long ago. Uncle Peter says that this is the dull season in your brokerage business and the trip will do you a world of good. You need only take a few hundred dollars for pocket money, and he's going to invest your $5,000 where it will be immensely productive." I could only sit and listen and pass away. What would become of Skinski and Bunch and our good money! How could I ever account for the missing funds without leading Peaches down to Wall Street and showing her the tall buildings they had built with my dough. And while these dismal thoughts ran through my mind Peaches grabbed that European trip between her pearly teeth and shook the delights out of it. That night I had an attack of insomnia, neurasthenia, nervous prostration and the nightmare, with cinematograph pictures on the side. All night long Skinski had me on the stage in a wicker basket, while Uncle Peter jabbed a sword through me and Dodo sat in the front row on the aisle yelling "You betcher sweet!" Thursday broke clear and cloudless. Just before I left home for the fatal scene Peaches said, "I'm so sorry business will keep you in the city this evening, John; but of course I realize you have much to do before we sail on Wednesday. Alice Grey just phoned over that she has a box at a theatre somewhere, I didn't ask her where, but if you're sure you won't be home I'll go with Alice and Aunt Martha." "By all means," I answered, and kissing her good-bue I trolleyed to New Rochelle. Bunch was there ahead of me and so were Skinski and Ma'moiselle Dodo, all working like beavers. "I'm going to take the 11:40 to town," Skinski informed us after all was in readiness for the performance. "I have a very important date, haven't I, Dodey?" "You betcher sweet!" she puffingly replied. "But I'll be back before six o'clock and I'll give 'em the show of my life," Skinski continued. "How's the sale?" "There's a three hundred dollar advance sale," Bunch replied; "and Pietro in the box office says we're good for a five or six hundred dollar window sale if it's a fine night. You can gamble we've let 'em know we're in town, all right!"