THE WATER CURE
When it comes to makin' matches I hand it to the women. When it comes to breakin' 'em leave it to the handsomer sex.
The thirteenth o' June didn't light on a Friday, but old Tuesday come through in the pinch with just as good results. Dear little Sister-in-law Bess blew in on the afternoon train from Wabash. She says she was makin' us a surprise visit. The surprise affected me a good deal like the one that was pulled on Napoleon at Waterloo, Ia.
"How long are you goin' to light up our home?" I ast her at the supper table.
"I haven't made up my mind," says she.
"That's all you've missed, then," I says.
"Don't mind him!" says my Missus. "He's just a tease. You look grand and we're both tickled to death to have you here. You may stay with us all summer."
"No question about that," I says. "Not only may, but li'ble to."
"If I do," says Bess, "it'll be on my sister's account, not yourn."
"But I'm the baby that settles your sister's account," I says; "and it was some account after you left us last winter. With your visit and our cute little trip to Palm Beach, I'm not what you'd call cramped for pocket space."