"Now, Ducky," breaks in Garvey, "let's not lay it on the servants."
And Mrs. Garvey turns the color of a fire hydrant clear up into her permanent wave. "Very well, Tim," says she. "If you will let everybody know. I suppose it's bound to get out sooner or later, anyhow." And with that she turns to me. "Anyway, you're the young man who put him up to this nonsense. I hope you're satisfied."
"Me?" says I, doin' the gawp act.
"How delightfully mysterious!" says Vee. "What's it all about?"
"Yes, Garvey," says I. "What you been up to?"
"I'm being natural, that's all," says he.
"Natural!" snorts Mrs. Garvey. "Is that what you call it?"
"How does it break out?" says I.
"If you must know," says Mrs. Garvey, "he's making a fool of himself by playing a snare drum."
"Honest?" says I, grinnin' at Garvey.