Presently Uncle Peter and Skinski shook hands about something, and five minutes later Bunch's "relatives" took their departure to the accompaniment of much internal applause on my part.
"Mr. McGowan is a very accomplished gentleman," Uncle Peter decided; "but handicapped by a most depressing wife, most depressing. The Blue Hills, eh! the Blue Hills! Now, I wonder——"
Then he began to whistle softly and went into the dining-room.
Monday morning, bright and early, I met Bunch, and we buried the hatchet.
"I hope my beloved relatives didn't disgrace me while sojourning in your midst," he chuckled.
"Not at all," I answered airily. "Why, Uncle Cornelius was the hit of the season with Uncle Peter, though, of course, Aunt Flora didn't make good with that 'You betcher sweet!' monologue of hers. How could she? Even at that, she stands better with me than some conversational queens I know who get so busy with the gab they make me dizzy."
About noon Bunch and I ducked for New Rochelle to do a bit of advance work for our show.
Nobody knew us in the town, so we posed as Cameron & Connolly,
owners of the Great Hall of Illusions, and Managers of the World
Wonder and Magic King, Signor Beppo Petroskinski, and Ma'moselle
Dodo, the Oriental Queen of Mystery.
Pretty hot line of goods, eh?
We handed out the salve thing to all the paper lads and they were for us good and plenty.