"It strikes me," I said, trying hard to be calm, "that after makingthe candy he decided to make a monkey of me. Darn the blame skinnyg,it won't let go! I suppose I've got to be a perpetual furnituremover the rest of my life!"

Just then Uncle Peter came bubbling into the kitchen, talking inshort explosions like a bottle of vichy, and I collaborated withthe chair in a hasty squatty-vous!

"Two women on the piazza," he fizzed; "been talking to them an hourand all I could get out of them was 'yes' and 'no.' Not badlooking, but profoundly dumb."